


Rosemary Lane

by skeleton_narration



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Horror, Background Relationships, Dark Fantasy, Deaf Character, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Human AU, M/M, Manipulation, Mr. Mistoffelees is Quaxo (Cats), Multi, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Supernatural Elements, Things are weird, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Mistoffelees, Victoria is Deaf, kind of, not between misto or tugger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22458916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeleton_narration/pseuds/skeleton_narration
Summary: “Ya haven’t heard about the house on the hill yet?” Rumpleteazer sounded surprised. She gave Victoria a smile, one that felt dangerous and was practically all teeth.“I feel like it’s somethin’ that should be covered in orientation. It’s an important part of our school’s history,” Mungojerrie stated, almost solemn. Rumpleteazer nodded in agreement next to him.“It’s just a dumb legend, the administrators are tired of all the rumors,” Munkustrap interrupted, giving the siblings a pointed look.----A story about love, about ghosts, about folklore, about the truth, and a story about family.
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees & Victoria, Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger, Quaxo/Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 34
Kudos: 102





	1. Haunted House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a story is told and a story has just begun.

Quaxo didn’t know how Victoria had convinced him to come to this party. 

It wasn’t like the parties he saw in Hollywood movies. The party wasn’t thrown by a frat (Greek life didn’t exist at their school) but instead the president of a student-led group of the university’s Pride Resource Center. Victoria had somehow become friendly enough with him to be invited, or maybe he always invited freshmen to get drunk in his apartment. That hadn’t been too different and was the most movie seeming part of this party; someone had even brought weed brownies.

There was music playing but it wasn’t blaring too loud, seemingly out of some respect for the neighbors below and next to them. It wasn’t a “rager” by any means. It was small, thirty people maximum which in the small flat did seem a little claustrophobic.

Especially when he was in the middle of the tiny kitchen, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Victoria. Victoria was three drinks in, her signs were a little bit more sluggish. Drunken sign language slurred as much as verbal languages did. 

Quaxo had somehow gotten two drinks in. He had never drunk before. Apparently, it gave him the inability to focus on anything.

He really wanted a grilled cheese.

Quaxo focused back on the conversation. He had missed whatever Victoria was saying but it didn’t matter. Munkustrap seemed to be slightly adept at sign language, along with the tall guy next to her who seemed more than just adept. Quaxo was pretty sure that his name was Plato.

He realized that he wasn’t needed and suddenly felt even more awkward. He wondered if it was polite to grab a third drink, staring at them. There was someone at the table, pouring themselves a mixed drink. 

It was definitely the drinks giving him boldness because, after a few moments of hesitation, he left Victoria’s sides. He saw his sister pause which made him pause before they continued like normal. Quaxo still made his way slowly to the person, silently walking up next to them. He was debating on what to say when they apparently noticed him, glancing his way and speaking first.

“You can have anything you want to drink,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth, Quaxo liked it. 

He was much taller than him. Masculine and broad, his face made his tongue feel dry. Whoever he was, he moved around like he owned the place. His skin was dark, his face square and handsome. He was wearing a leather jacket, there were patches for bands Quaxo didn’t recognize sewn in, beneath was a black torn shirt. Quaxo tried not to stare too long or too hard, giving one glance down, seeing that he was wearing dark red Doc Martens that danced with the colors of the light from the living room.

“Uh, yeah, but I’ve never… This is my first time drinking,” any and all the eloquence that he had was apparently forgone. 

This seemed to amuse him and he laughed a low chuckle. “Have you had any water?” They asked, a smile all over their face that Quaxo decided he didn’t like. It felt entirely too smug. 

“I don’t want any water,” he replied.

He hummed, looking at him before tilting his head to the side.

“How about I get you a cup of water and pour you another drink?” He offered, “Trust me, the water will help with the hangover tomorrow.” 

Quaxo stared at him, fully aware even in his inebriated state that this was a stranger. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to take drinks from strangers,” he said, squinting his eyes up at him.

“Generally no, also with Tugger I don’t recommend it,” a new voice drew his attention and he glanced behind Tugger, seeing a tall redhead who slotted herself between the two of them easily. “He’ll make you a drink that has five shots of vodka in there, I can pour you one that won’t leave you blackout drunk.”

“I know how to pour drinks,” Tugger defended himself, his handsome features scrunching as he pouted. Quaxo thought he looked stupid which unfortunately made him even hotter. 

“Really?” The redhead raised her eyebrows at him, “Hey, Munkustrap?” She turned to the host of the party, who looked over at them. “Does Tugger know how to pour drinks?”

“Oh god, no,” Munkustrap shook his head, “Don’t let him pour you anything.”

The redhead turned to Tugger, smug and a teasing smile on her face. “Even your brother agrees with me,” she turned to Quaxo then, “I’ll pour you a drink. He can still get you water, though.” She was already grabbing a cup from the stack, looking at Quaxo as she held up a bottle of vodka and pointing at the soda options on the table. “Which one?”

“Sprite is fine,” he said and she nodded her head, pouring him the mixed drink.

“I’m Bombalurina, by the way,” she introduced herself as she handed him the cup. Quaxo took a moment to write his name on it. “She/her,” she said casually. 

“Oh, um, Quaxo, he/him,” saying his pronouns afterward felt odd but he figured that this was the type of space where it was normal. There was a trans flag that was hanging above the television and he wondered who it belonged to. He turned his head when he heard the sound of a tap being turned on, watching Tugger as he got a cup of water before turning back towards Bombalurina and him. He gave Quaxo a grin and he looked away.

“You’re a first-year, right?” Tugger put the other cup in front of him, Quaxo glanced his way again. He noted the necklaces he was wearing, a choker with spikes on it and a longer one, a chain that was fine and silver like a spiderweb with a pendant on the bottom, a dark cylinder of a stone that had wire pressed around it like leaves. 

He stared at it before remembering that it was rude to stare and that he was supposed to answer. “Yes, I am,” he said, signing along with his words out of habits. “I haven’t been to anything but my sister Victoria has,” he looked behind him for her but noticed that she was gone with a frown. He scanned the small flat before seeing her in the corner, talking to Plato excitedly. 

“How do you like school so far?” Bombalurina asked. “University is a lot different than secondary.”

“Yeah, I didn’t go to a single party other than cast parties during secondary school and those didn’t have drinks. Or weed,” he was admittedly curious about the cookies but didn’t think that mixing that with drinking for the first time was a smart idea.

“Munkustrap throws good parties to go to if they’re your first time,” Tugger was speaking now. “He’s always on top of making sure that everyone is comfortable,” there was nothing but fondness in his voice.

“You two are close?” 

“We’re brothers. Half brothers but those are just technicalities, we were raised together,” Tugger explained.

“Don’t act anything alike though,” Bombalurina said into her cup. Tugger laughed, not seeming offended by this. 

“Munkustrap decided to be responsible so I figured I don’t need to be,” the charming smile on Tugger’s face felt like trouble. He wondered what trouble Tugger got into.

“Mhm,” Bombalurina hummed, “I can’t say I mind too much. I like your adventurous side,” she shared a smile with Tugger that Quaxo didn’t really want to understand. 

He sipped at the drink Bombalurina had poured for him, unable to stop the wrinkle in his nose that came from the taste. Alcohol of all types tasted gross, he decided. Quaxo was still going to finish the drink. 

“Do you guys both go to the university?” He asked, figuring he might as well try to make conversation. 

“I’m in the music department, I’m only a third-year though,” Tugger stated. 

“What are you majoring in?” He felt that it was stereotypical to ask, but Quaxo wasn’t familiar with the programs that the music department offered. 

“Music Performance with a focus on vocals,” Tugger answered, throwing another charming smile in Quaxo’s direction. “I’m only here because I got offered a nice scholarship, I was going to just jump straight into it otherwise. I play guitar and vocals in a band, too.”

“I’m in it,” Bombalurina jumped back into the conversation, nothing but pride in her voice, “I’m back up vocals and keyboardist.”

“We do a lot of small local gigs, you should come and see us sometime,” Tugger was looking right at him, his eyes were sharp. Quaxo didn’t know if the dizzy feeling he got was from the alcohol.

“Maybe,” he answered, keeping it noncommittal. He noticed Bombalurina wandering off, going to talk to someone else. “What type of music do you play?” He focused on Tugger now.

“Mainly rock music.”

“What type of rock?”

“Whatever type I can get my hands on.”

“Trying to be genreless? Or are you thinking that the less descriptive you are, the more likely I am to come to your show?” 

The expressions on Tugger’s face told Quaxo that maybe he had been rude. He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a criticism but knew that it had anyway. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t—” Tugger laughed, a bright sound that released some of the tension in Quaxo’s shoulders.

“You’re right. I was thinking that,” Tugger leaned against the table, staring at Quaxo. “Apparently it backfired.”

“Do you invite every first-year you met to see you play?”

“Do you want me to back off?” Tugger’s demeanor changed, becoming serious rather quickly.

“Back off? Are you— are you flirting with me?” Quaxo hadn’t even realized, “I’m two,” he glanced at the drink Bombalurina had poured him, “and a half drinks in. I really want a grilled cheese.”

“I’m going to say yes to that, then,” Tugger’s smile came back, easy and natural. “Have you decided what you’re majoring in? What department are you in?”

Before Quaxo could answer, two loud laughs drew his attention. 

“Have you met Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer yet?” Tugger asked and Quaxo shook his head ‘no’. “Come on, they’re nice once you get past everything else,” he began to walk out of the kitchen and Quaxo followed, taking his two drinks with him. The kitchen was pretty empty now, most people having either found their way back into the living room or outside, though he did see a few others playing what looked like Mario Kart in someone’s room.

Victoria was already engaged in conversation with the new arrivals. Her hands still moved slowly but it didn’t seem like there was enough of a language barrier that he immediately had to jump in. Upon spotting him, Victoria brightened. Her gaze went to Tugger next to him and Quaxo shrugged, ignoring the smile Victoria gave him. 

Three drinks in and Quaxo couldn’t begin to process what the smile might mean.

He didn’t recognize the song that was playing, but his foot tapped on its own and he swayed a little bit, trying to catch on to bits of the conversation that was happening.

“That’s Mungojerrrie,” Tugger’s voice was in his ear and he looked at the tall ginger that Tugger was pointing at, “And that’s Rumpleteazer,” he pointed to a shorter, nearly identical-looking girl next to Mungojerrie. 

Rumpleteazer was animated as she talked, leaning in a little bit when Victoria shook her head no at a question Quaxo hadn’t heard. “Ya haven’t heard about the house on the hill yet?” Rumpleteazer sounded surprised. She gave Victoria a smile, one that felt dangerous and was practically all teeth.

“I feel like it’s somethin’ that should be covered in orientation. It’s an important part of our school’s history,” Mungojerrie stated, almost solemn. Rumpleteazer nodded in agreement next to him.

“It’s just a dumb legend, the administrators are tired of all the rumors,” Munkustrap interrupted, giving the siblings a pointed look. 

“Ain’t a rumor if it’s true!” Mungojerrie replied.

“It’s not,” Munkustrap huffed.

“Fine, I’ll tell ya about the legend,” Rumpleteazer gave Munkustrap an innocent-seeming smile. Munkustrap looked exasperated but didn’t stop her. “The house is on the top of Rosemary Lane.”

“It’s on the west side of campus, ya ain’t supposed to go in it. Whole buildin’ has been condemned, you can’t even step behind the fence without gettin’ into trouble,” Mungojerrie bent at his knees slightly, acting as if he was sneaking.

“Why was it condemned?” Quaxo asked. 

Two pairs of eyes looking at him, mirrored smiles on Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer’s faces. 

“Well, that’s where it starts ta get interestin’!” Mungojerrie looked at his sister, inviting her to continue. 

Rumpleteazer moved closer to him, her hands hovering but never touching him as she spoke. “That house was built by the founder at the school so that he and his family could have a place to stay while he oversaw everything. They put at the top of the hill since the missus liked the way the sunset behind it that way,” she began, “But people say Grizabella Jellicle had other reasons for choosing it.”

She was trying to get him to ask more, to encourage her to continue the story. Quaxo took the bait.

“What other reasons?” 

“Don’t start blurring fact and fiction too much,” Munkustrap warned. “This story takes way too many liberties.”

“That’s quite an awful lot of school spirit Munkustrap,” Mungojerrie stuck his tongue out at Munkustrap who didn’t even try to hide how annoyed he felt. 

Rumpleteazer rolled her eyes, continuing with the story without another pause. “It’s said that Grizabella was a bit of a witch. She liked to talk to the fae people, the good folk,” her accent changed into something attempting to be Irish. “Elias Jellicle didn’t seem to mind this much. He was a very forward thinkin’ man and didn’t care much that his wife wasn’t going to church. At least, not until those good folk his wife talked too started to get more involved.”

“She gave a lot to the fae. Small trinkets in return of favors. There was one that she liked quite an awful lot, he took the form of a man. Apparently he was pretty fit since Grizabella talked to him quite a lot, kept giving him bigger gifts and kept getting bigger things in return. She called him Macavity.”

Hearing the name made the hair on the back of Quaxo’s neck stand up. His chest stirred uncomfortably and Quaxo felt suddenly sobered up. 

“Macavity?”

“The Mystery Macavity,” Mungojerrie continued, “He was apparently quite a powerful fae. Strong enough to take Grizabella. People say she would sing to him at night. One day, Elias Jellicle came out to the rose garden in the middle of the night after waking up to her singing. He wrote in her journal that she was bathed in moonlight and that there were flowers and vines growing from her.”

“He was being poetic,” Tugger waved off Mungojerrie’s description. 

“Poetry or not, it doesn’t change that a week later Grizabella disappeared,” Mungojerrie frowned at Tugger’s interruption. “Seemingly without a trace.

“Elias and their children continued to live in the house, but strange things began to happen. The children would see glimpses of their mother, they told Elias that she still sang to them at night, calling out to them. Apparently, they weren’t the ones, Elias himself experienced quite a bit of activity. He saw things in the night, heard knocking on the walls. Eventually, it pushed him too far. He left the house, swearing that no one should ever live in it again. It sat empty for a while but the university needed housing and wanted to preserve since it’s considered historical and all that,” Mungojerrie continued. 

“The house was converted to graduate housing. It was split into apartments. During the construction, things kept going missing. They kept having to get new contractors because people kept leaving, fed up and terrified of the house, especially working on it at night,” Rumpleteazer continued. “A contractor had been hired to finish the wiring fast so he had to work at night. He was on his own and one night someone had knocked on the door. He answered and a man was there, he said his name was Macavity, and that he owned the house. He even pulled out papers to prove it.

“The contractor let him in and the Mystery walked around the house. When the contractor went to ask him a question, the Mystery was gone and all that remained was the smell of a fire. Poor bloke thought he was having some sort of stroke and rushed off to the hospital. He was al’ight in the end and even finished the wirin’!” Rumpleteazer lifted her beer up as toasting in his honor.

Mungojerrie clinked his drink with hers, Quaxo realized that he was drinking canned soda. “Once it was completed, about twelve students moved in. Weird stuff started happenin’ pretty much instantly. Students would hear people runnin’ round, their stuff went missin’ too and to top it off, they heard singing at night. Things didn’t seem too serious until a girl named Jemima disappeared, just like Grizabella did. To make things worse, it even happened the same day that Grizabella had vanished 173 years ago.”

“Want to know somethin’ even more twisted?” Rumpleteazer asked, her attention seemingly focused entirely on Quaxo. He nodded yes and she gave him another smile, “Grizabella’s body was found where the rose garden used ta be. She hadn’t aged since 1818, lookin’ fresh and cold like she had slept there all night. She was found tangled in rose vines. Them’s the rumors anyway, there’s no “real” proof that she was actually there.” 

Mungojerrie made eye contact and he winked at Quaxo. Next to him, Tugger shifted. 

“It’s really just a dumb ghost story, every university has them,” he said, sounding a little annoyed. 

“Are ya still sore because you chickened out of the test?” Rumpleteazer teased.

Tugger huffed, “I didn’t chicken out of anything! That place hasn’t been checked on in years and I didn’t want to get a tetanus shot.”

“Sounds like something a chicken would say,” Mungojerrie leaned over and whispered to Munkustrap.

Munkustrap stiffened slightly from the proximity, “No, Tugger is right,” he said to Mungojerrie, who moved away just slightly. Munkustrap bit his tongue gently, his demeanor shifting, “It’s dangerous for students to go. There used to be a bravery contest in the Theatre Department but it was shut down because of injuries.”

“One girl breaks an ankle an’,” Rumpleteazer made a raspberry, sticking her thumb down. 

“Now nobody can get in. Well, nobody except for me an’ Rumpleteazer,” Mungojerrie sipped innocently on his soda. 

“What?” Munkustrap’s voice bordered on outrage. “How many times have you guys broken in there? Why are you going there?”

“Don’t worry, Munkustrap, we’ve only done it twice now and we don’t stay there for long. It’s not that bad,” Mungojerrie attempted to reassure Munkustrap. 

“Three times?” Munkustrap pinched the bridge of his nose as if trying to get rid of an oncoming headache.

“I want to go,” Quaxo blurted out before he could stop himself, interrupting anything that Mungojerrie might say in response. “To the house, I want to see it,” he clarified though it was obvious with how the others were looking at him that they hadn’t needed a clarification.

Victoria made a little noise, grabbing his attention. She signed quickly at him, “Are you insane?” 

“It’s interesting,” Quaxo spelled with his fingers to emphasize. Victoria frowned at him, visibly worried. She didn’t sign anything back as she thought before eventually her hands moved. 

“If you’re going, I want to go too,” she signed.

Quaxo gently touched the ring finger of his left hand with his index finger before creating an ‘L’ shape with his left hand and curling his right hand just slightly and slotting it in the ‘L’. “Okay,” he agreed. 

“We can go tonight if ya want,” Rumpleteazer offered.

“That’s not a smart idea, you’ve been drinking,” Munkustrap shook his head at Quaxo, “Plus, neither of you two can drive right now, you’ve both been drinking,” he looked at Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer.

“I feel fine,” Quaxo said. 

“And I’ve only had soda and water! Teazer and I switch with who gets to drink,” Mungojerrie gave Munkustrap an honest seeming smile. 

“I’ll go with them,” Tugger sighed next to him, “If they really want to go.”

“Victoria said she’ll go too,” Quaxo felt as if he was defending himself to a parent.

Munkustrap’s expression became stern, the frown on his face turning into a thin line. The furrow in his brow didn’t leave even when he spoke. 

“Fine, but I’m going too. Demeter can watch over things, Bombalurina too,” Munkustrap stated. 

“We won’t all fit in the car,” Rumpleteazer poked Munkustrap’s ear, “We only have a five-seater.”

“I want to go too,” Plato spoke up then, “I haven’t drunk anything but water and soda all night. You know I don’t drink,” he glanced down at Victoria who gave him a shy smile. Quaxo was going to ask questions later.

Munkustrap nodded at that, seeming pleased. “I’ll go let Dem and Bomba know,” he said before walking away from the group. Tugger waited a moment before following after Munkustrap wearing an unreadable expression. 

Victoria signed to him, speaking in a low whisper as well, “Are you sure you want to go?” She walked up to him, reaching out to take his arm.

Quaxo lifted a fist, moving it up and down as he nodded his head, “Yes.” 


	2. Siren Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the moon sings, in which a meal is shared, in which something has begun to awaken.

Stepping outside of the flat, they were greeted with biting cold. It was only the end of September but the chill was already there. Victoria clung to his side, for both warmth and stability. Quaxo was grateful for it, realizing he was far less sober than thought. Walking down the steps, his legs wobbled just slightly and the stairs seemed to blur together. The two of them managed to get down to the ground floor, holding onto each other tightly. Victoria shivered against the cold and a shudder ran through Quaxo’s body every so often, both having thin coats.

“How are we splitting up the cars?” Quaxo asked, ignoring the chatter in his teeth. 

“Your sister and you can ride with us!” Rumpleteazer grabbed Victoria’s free arm, already tugging her in the direction of their car, dragging Quaxo with them.

“Hey—” Tugger began to call out to them. Quaxo turned his head slightly, seeing Tugger’s face. He suddenly felt disappointed that he wasn’t going with them. 

Rumpleteazer turned around and stuck her tongue out at Tugger, smiling the whole time. 

“Rumpleteazer,” Munkustrap sighed, “Let Tugger ride with them and Mungoerrie. You can ride with Plato and me.”

“What? You don’t trust us?” Rumpleteazer asked indignantly, letting go of Quaxo’s arm to put her hands on her hips. 

“No.”

“Oh, come off it!” Rumpleteazer bristled slightly, Munkustrap just stared at her dead in the eye. 

“The two of you together, especially with you drunk and Mungojerrie being Mungojerrie, usually means that there’s going to be some sort of trouble. Or a delay,” Munkustrap explained and Rumpleteazer went silent. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, clearly considering what he was saying. “Plus, it’s been proven that you’re both way more stupid together than apart,” at that Rumpleteazer began to speak, holding up a finger before setting it down.

She nodded her head, completely understanding Munkustrap’s point. She slipped her arm from Victoria’s.

“Nah, you’re right, luv. Have fun with them, Tugger,” Rumpleteazer patted Quaxo on the back, two hard smacks that startled him. She walked over to Munkustrap, now taking his arm in hers. 

Thankfully, for Victoria’s and his freezings states, they were in the car soon. Mungojerrie had turned the heat on and Victoria was quick to jump to the front, wanting to get the most heat she could. Quaxo was more than okay with her taking the spot and Tugger didn’t seem to mind, especially when Victoria put her seat up to give him more legroom. Quaxo was surprised that Tugger’s mohawk was in the car without issue. Maybe he was just being dumb and didn’t know the proper scale of things, though. Quaxo couldn’t help but stare, blinking slowly. His brain was trying to make sense of it.

He should have had more water.

Tugger noticed him staring, raising an eyebrow with a lazy smirk. “Something on my face?”

“No,” Quaxo replied.

“What is it then?” Tugger asked and Quaxo pretended to think about it for a moment. He wasn’t going to tell Tugger that he thought his hair didn’t fit. He was also a terrible liar.

“Your hair,” he said, “How do you style it?” Turning the question around was a lot easier, coming out easily. Quaxo never liked to focus much on himself anyway.

Tugger didn’t seem surprised by the question. Quaxo figured that he got that question a lot. “I use gel. I used to fan it but straightening your hair every day isn’t exactly ideal,” Tugger explained. “It’s a lot of brushing and finger work.”

“Must take a long time,” Quaxo commented.

“We roomed together during our first year. When he first started to wear his hair like that it would take him  _ hours _ to get it right,” Mungjerrie shook his head, glancing back at Quaxo for a brief second before focusing on the road. 

Victoria had turned in her seat, “What are you talking about?” She signed.

“Tugger’s hair,” Quaxo signed back, speaking aloud out of habit. 

“I like his hair,” Victoria smiled as she signed.

“Victoria said she likes your hair,” he passed the message on to Tugger who grinned.

With a flat hand, he touched his fingertips to his chin before his hand moved down and away from him. “Thank you,” he said. 

Victoria beamed. 

“You know sign language?” Quaxo looked at him, surprised.

“Only the basics,” Tugger shrugged, “Munkustrap used to practice signs with me when he had to study for class.”

“We’re on Rosemary Lane,” Mungojerrie interrupted excitement in his voice. 

Quaxo looked out the car window. The light of the moon combined with the streetlights made it easier to see as they drove. A few of the surrounding buildings still had their lights on, most being storefronts but he could see a few apartments. Quaxo strained a little to see if he could see the house atop the hill. He was tempted to roll down the window but didn’t want to freeze Victoria and the others. The lights became fewer the higher on the hill they went, the moon and headlights soon becoming their only sources.

Eventually, the car stopped. Mungojerrie turned off the engine and got out of the car when Plato pulled up next to them. Quaxo followed suite. As soon as he stepped out of the car, his eyes landed on the house. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up as skin broke out in goosebumps. All of the air was gone from Quaxo’s lungs. He didn’t hear anything but the wind in his ears. For a moment, he didn’t feel the cold.

The house on Rosemary Lane was partially illuminated by the pair of headlights. It was large and clearly from the early Victorian era. After being uncared for since 1991, the house looked like it was ripped from a horror novel. The paint was peeling, its shingles were falling off of the roof and some windows had been broken while others had been boarded up. There was no fence surrounding it but the earth around it had grown and the school had blocked off the front door. 

“—uaxo. Quaxo? Hey, are ya there?” Mungojerrie was waving his hand in his face, staring at Quaxo with a peculiar expression. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Quaxo turned his attention to the group. “What were you guys saying?”

“There...  _ are  _ a few ways to get on the grounds but this whole place is technically off-limits so we shouldn’t stay here too long,” Munkustrap informed them, sounding a bit agitated and uncomfortable.

“Why isn’t there a fence?” Victoria asked, her voice loud and heavy. Her hands were barely visible in the low light.

“They keep getting torn down,” Tugger stated. He sounded just as uncomfortable as Munkustrap.

“By who?” Victoria followed up after Quaxo did his best to translate. 

Tugger didn’t answer this.

There were suddenly hands on his shoulders, Rumpleteazer sneaking up from behind him. “By the ghosts!” Quaxo couldn’t stop the startled yell, stumbling forward and away from Rumpleteazer who was cackling, Mungojerrie joining her laughter.

Victoria also found it funny. Quaxo turned to glare at her as soon as he heard her laughter. 

Quaxo smashed his inner side of each thumb together, his left hand tilted upwards just slightly before quickly pointing to Victoria. “Fuck you,” he signed.

This only made her laugh harder. 

He rolled his eyes. They landed on Tugger next to him. He had expected to see a stifled smile but instead, Tugger’s expression was firm. Tugger was glaring too but not at the twins. He was looking right at the house. His mouth was set into a scowl, his eyes dark and his eyebrows furrowed. 

The expression was worrying. Quaxo was tempted to reach out and ask what was wrong. Munkustrap cleared his throat. 

“If we want to go inside, we should do it fast. Let’s try not to spend too much time here,” he didn’t sound happy to be there. Quaxo looked over, he saw that his expression was dark too. It almost mirrored his brothers. His shoulders were squared and he looked ready for a fight. 

Mungojerrie gently bumped his shoulder into Munkustrap, moving and standing next to him. 

“We’ll be careful, don’t worry,” his tone was softer for one second before his face broke into a grin, looking over at Quaxo.

“Follow me an’ Teazer,” Mungojerrie began to walk along the fence. The group followed him, Munkustrap walked beside Mungojerrie on the outside while Rumpleteazer and Victoria walked in front of Quaxo, Plato lingering a bit behind them. He was acutely aware of Tugger walking closely behind him. 

They stopped along the chain-link fence. Observing it, he noticed that there was a rough hole cut into the fence. It wasn’t large, but it could fit someone who was small and on their knees. 

“They don’t really check this spot too often! Awful easy to find a way in if you know where to look,” Mungojerrie’s grin hadn’t gone away. He grabbed one side of the chain-link fence and Rumpleteazer grabbed the other. Together they pulled the sides of the fence apart creating a wider interest. 

Quaxo moved to go in first but Munkustrap beat him to it. He went in unceremoniously, some strands of his hair almost catching but he managed to get in through the hole. Once on the other side he stood with his arms crossed. It reminded Quaxo of the way a cat on guard looked. Apprehensive and protective, shoulders taught, eyes sharp and scanning for any dangers or attacks. If anything stepped wrong, Munkustrap planned on striking it down.

Quaxo went through the gate next. He was smaller than everyone but Victoria. It was easy for him to cross the threshold. The grass reached his ankles and he was glad he was wearing boots since the earth was soft from the days’ rain. 

Victoria must have come in after him. Her hand was slipping into his and squeezing it once, bringing him back to earth.

Quaxo glanced back to where the chink in the chain was. Plato went in without much trouble, leaving Tugger for last before Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Tugger was arguably the biggest there and the shoulders of his jacket got caught for a few seconds. He tugged against it, cursing as he was snared. Quaxo moved to help him out but Mungojerrie reached over, releasing him from the fence. He stepped over, looking less pleased. 

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer both slinked in after, Mungojerrie holding it open from the other side when Rumpleteazer joined them. 

“Come on!” Rumpleteazer grabbed him this time, pulling him to the front with her. The others followed quickly.

Closer to the house now, it felt like the noises of the world outside of the grounds hushed. It wasn’t just the house. The air felt different, atop the hill. It buzzed all around him. To him, it felt like the energy before a storm, full of static and tension ready to spill. There was the faint smell of lavender and rose as they got closer. He felt this as they drove up the road but now it was intensified. His chest tightened and he didn’t know if it was from excitement or fear. 

They reached the house and he stared at it with wide eyes. It looked like it was ready to swallow him whole. Quaxo still took a step on the stairs, carefully in case they were weak. 

No one spoke now, or if they did, he didn’t hear them. 

Mungojerrie easily got the front door open and they stepped inside the house atop Rosemary Lane.

The inside was even darker than outside, the moon no longer there to illuminate it. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust. 

When they did, he took in what he could. The house didn’t look like it came from the 1800s which wasn’t surprising. It was clear from the furniture and objects left behind that no one had lived in or rearranged anything since the ‘90s. What threw him off was how overgrown it all was.

There were vines creeping along the walks in full bloom, not having any sign if dying for the winter. The chairs and couches were all entwined and twisted, completely overtaken. 

They clearly weren’t the first ones to come inside the house. Quaxo took note of all the gravity on the walls. He spotted one of a twisted figure, done in red. The figure had no features but eyes that stared. He moved automatically towards it, stopping when a hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Careful where you step,” Tugger gently pulled him back to the group. 

“Right,” Quaxo’s mouth felt dry. 

Victoria was looking at him oddly. Quaxo looked away and went back to studying the house.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Rumpleteazer asked. 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Plato piped up this time, “I mean, can the stairs hold us?”

“It was th’ ‘90s, they ain’t that old Plato,” Mungojerrie brushed off the concern, “The vines haven’t even begun to mess up the actual structure.” 

“Plus, the rooms upstairs are interestin’ to look at!” Rumpleteazer added. 

Plato gave in, “Okay.”

There were two sets of stairs to the upper level from the entrance, they all took one, not wanting to split up. The wood beneath their feet creaked in protest as they walked upon the stairs. The house was larger than Quaxo had been imagining on the inside. 

They passed several bedrooms, poking their head into a few. 

One made Quaxo stop. It was towards the end, near the second set of stairs. There was a bunk bed in it, the room too small for anything else. Posters were still hung up but there were no pictures. 

“This was the room that Jemima slept in,” Rumpleteazer noticed his staring. 

“It was also Grizabella’s study,” Mungojerrie added, “Did ya know they were both singers?”

“Had the loveliest voices,” Rumpleteazer sounded oddly full of remorse. 

There was silence for a moment. The air was slowly filled with a song. Quaxo couldn’t hear it at first. The notes were quiet and distant. The song crept up on him until he recognized fate singing.

It was a faint harmony. He heard the lower tone first before the high, almost angelic voice layered above it. The voices were singing in a language he didn’t recognize. 

He turned towards it, following the song. 

“Quaxo, where are you going?” He didn’t answer Munkustrap’s question.

He made his way down the stairs slowly, unable to help himself. He reached the bottom and just continued to listen, not aware of the footsteps that followed him. Slowly he made his way towards the back of the house. The voices grew louder the further in he went. The song was old. Quaxo could feel it in his bones. The words flowed together.

He did not understand the words but he knew that they were calling him. 

Quaxo pushed open an old door that led out to the yard behind the house. There was a paved path that he followed. It winded into the back, growing more and more overgrown as he followed it. The grass began to reach his knees and the voices became louder, the harmony floating in his ears. 

The moon hung in the sky, full and bright. It cast a glow across the landscape. Quaxo’s eyes focused on the large archway in front of him. It was old, made from branches and what used to be two trees. The trees had long since died but stayed wrapped around each other, reluctant to let go. 

Suddenly there was someone in his path. 

He walked back, blinking at the sudden appearance of Mungojerrie. 

“Ya shouldn’t go any further past this point,” he said casually.

“I heard— I need too—“

“Trust me,” Rumoleteazer’s hand was on his shoulder, Quaxo hadn’t even noticed her, “You don’t.”

He blinked, the singing had stopped. He could still feel the electricity in the air, taste the ozone on his tongue but the singing had stopped. All that was left was a ringing in his ears. 

Looking at Mungojerrie again, he became confused. Quaxo had been in front, he clearly remembered. No one had been leading him but Mungojerrie had managed to cut him off from the front.

He had no time to worry about it when the others were there, all staring at him with varying states of worry and in Victoria’s case, fear. 

“We should leave,” Victoria signed at him, her eyes were wide and in the moonlight, he could see her shivering. 

“Okay, let’s leave,” Quaxo signed back, not putting up a fight. He had scared Victoria and that was enough to make guilt nip at his heels. The expression on Tugger’s face was a storm in itself and looking at Munkustrap made Quaxo feel scolded. Even Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer looked as if they were no longer enjoying themselves, Quaxo felt as if he had ruined it all.

Especially when Plato was quick to look at anything but him. 

“Can you lead us back out?” Quaxo asked Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. 

They both nodded in synchronization. Together they took up the front, leading them away from the archway. Quaxo sent one more look at it over his shoulder before Victoria was grabbing him by the hand and pulling him away. 

The walk back to the cars felt shorter than the one to the house. As they got further, Quaxo felt something inside of him quell. A tension that he didn’t realize he had been carrying was gone. The ringing in his ears persisted, even as they climbed into the cars and began to drive down the hill.

Victoria sat next to him in the back this time, their hands laying on top of each other in the space in between. Other than the music that Mungojerrie had put on, it was silent in the car. 

Tugger turned to him, twisting in his chair, “Hey, do you still want a grilled cheese?”

The question brought back the craving that he had forgotten about on the hill. His stomach growled at the thought, he hadn't even realized that he was hungry. 

“Yeah,” he answered, a bit tentative. 

“There’s a place near the dorms that’s open till late. Their grilled cheeses are great. We can go, if you want,” Tugger offered.

He looked over at Victoria, relaying the question to her. Victoria considered it. She looked tired and Quaxo followed up quickly, “If not, that’s okay. I understand.”

Victoria tapped her finger to her chin, indicating that she was thinking. “You can go ahead, I want to go back to the dorm and sleep.” 

Quaxo suddenly became unsure, since they arrived on campus he and Victoria hadn’t done much without each other. He wasn’t tired at all, though he felt like he should be. Going back to his dorm didn’t sound very appealing either. At the same time, he didn’t want to force Victoria to stay awake either. 

“Okay,” he said, making up his mind, “I wouldn’t mind getting a grilled cheese. Are you coming too, Mungojerrie?” He wasn’t averse to being alone with Tugger yet it still felt rude to not offer it to Mungojerrie.

Mungojerrie shook his head, “Rumpleteazer and I should head back. I can drop Victoria off at the dorms and drop you guys off at the pub.”

“I’ll let Munk know,” Tugger was already pulling out his phone to text his brother. 

Mungojerrie followed through with dropping Victoria off and then Tugger and Quaxo. 

The pub was almost empty by the time they entered. It was nearing 1 am and he was surprised that they were still open. It was warm and smelled faintly of beer. Tugger led him to a booth near the back. 

They sat facing each other. Quaxo pretended to peruse the menu, although he only had one thing on his mind. He glanced towards Tugger who was scanning around the pub until he noticed a server. They made eye contact and the server made her way over. When she approached the table, Tugger gave her a charming smile. 

“What can I do for you two?” 

“Just two grilled cheeses and two waters,” Tugger told her, the smile unwavering on his face. The server nodded and wrote it down, the exchange quick as she left to go and tell the kitchen and grab their water. 

Tugger turned to Quaxo once she was gone, leaning back into the booth. “So,” he began, “Are you feeling okay?” 

“'Okay' how?” Quaxo asked in return. 

“At the house, you were acting weird, drunker than you thought?” He asked. His tone was humorous but when Quaxo looked at him, he doubted that it was meant to be joking. Tugger was staring at him, his eyes were taking Quaxo in as if trying to decide something. 

“I guess so,” he said because what else could he answer? “I thought I heard something, at the house,” Quaxo admitted. It felt like if he didn’t tell anyone, the ringing in his ears wouldn’t go away. 

Their server came around with water, placing two cups on the table. Quaxo took his sandwich in his hands, staring for a second at it before glancing back on Tugger who was still watching him. He took a sip of water. 

“What did you hear?” Tugger asked, his voice was low and soft but Quaxo could hear no tenderness. All that was there was curiosity. There was concern in his eyes, though, and Quaxo worried about that. It almost felt like there was something that Tugger knew that he didn’t. 

He figured that he was being paranoid. He still didn’t want to tell Tugger that he had heard a song. It felt stupid now. There was no way that there was anything or anyone singing out there. 

“I think it was the wind,” he answered, “I must have heard a draft. I thought it was something else.”

“Something else?” Tugger pressed gently.

“I thought I heard singing,” he sighed, feeling even more stupid when he said it aloud. 

Tugger went silent for a moment before he nodded, “Must have been the wind,” he agreed. 

Quaxo shifted in his seat, thinking back at the moment. He wanted to ask about the archway that had been on the grounds. 

Their server came back to their table, placing down a plate in front of each of them. The grilled cheese looked and smelled divine. It was a beautiful golden brown, there were several types of cheese on it. When he picked it up, the cheese stretched from how melted it was. Quaxo’s mouth watered and he couldn’t stop himself from taking the largest bite he could.

Laughter pulled him away from the most beautiful thing that Quaxo had ever seen. 

Tugger was grinning at him, “Sorry, you just look like you saw heaven.”

“I have,” Quaxo took another bite, relishing in the taste. “I haven’t had a grilled cheese in so long. During the season I tend to stay away from stuff like this.”

“You’re a dancer?”

“Yeah,” he realized he had never told Tugger what he was focusing on. “Both Victoria and I are in the dance department. We’re both doing a focus in ballet, we’ve been dancing since we were kids.”

“You guys are having a showcase soon, right?”

Quaxo nodded, pausing as he tried not to inhale the grilled cheese. He had to savor it. 

“Before we go off for winter break,” he told Tugger.

“Maybe I’ll go, I’m sure you’re magic on stage,” Tugger’s ankles brushed against his and Quaxo automatically pulled back.

“Who said I wanted you to come?” 

The tongue-in-cheek response made Tugger smile. He picked up on the fact that Quaxo was teasing, noticing the slight smile on his face. It was a game he wanted to play.

“Do I need to get tickets ahead of time?” 

Quaxo glanced at him, raising a brow as he peeled off a piece of his sandwich.

“It’s free to come.”

They sat talking at the pub until it neared closing time. Heading back outside, Quaxo tried to ignore the cold. 

“I’ll walk you back to the dorms?” Tugger offered.

Only because it was dark and late did Quaxo agree. “I live over in Daaé Hall,” he informed him, the two of them heading towards the building. A breeze blew past as they walked and he shivered.

“Do you want my jacket?” Tugger asked and Quaxo realized he was still shivering. 

He glanced at Tugger and the jacket he was wearing. He imagined it was warm. He couldn’t take it, though. He felt like he couldn’t take anything that Tugger would give him. 

“I’m sure that someone else would appreciate it far more than me,” he shook his head, 

“If you say so,” Tugger said in a sing-song voice. If he moved closer to Quaxo, shielding him from the wind, neither of them said so. 

The walk back was filled with idle chatter. 

They reached Quaxo’s dorm building. He leaned against the door, his student ID to get inside in his hand.

“How are you going to get back?”

“I already requested an Uber. It should be here soon.”

“Do you want me to wait with you?” Quaxo asked.

“You don’t have to,” Tugger shrugged.

Quaxo waited with him. 

Once Tugger was in the Uber, Quaxo slipped into the building and up the elevator to his floor. He walked down the long hall, ignoring how eerie it felt so late at night until he reached his shared room. As quietly as he could, Quaxo entered his dorm room. He took his shoes off and managed to find his sweatpants in the dark. He sent a quick text to Victoria that he was in his dorm before putting his phone to charge.

Crawling in bed, he curled up and was soon lulled to sleep with a song faintly in his ears. 


	3. Chant de Quête

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a bird calls to its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbeta'd so I apologize if there are mistakes I haven't caught.

A sliver of light came through from the curtains, landing over his eyes. It broke through the delicate balance that his sleeping was on. Not willing or ready to get up yet, Quaxo rolled over and attempted to curl further into his sheets, trying to fall back asleep. He buried his head beneath his pillow to keep the light away.

“Quaxo, are you awake?” His roommate had other ideas.

Quaxo let out a noncommittal answer in response. 

Coricopat snorted in amusement, “Is that a yes?” He asked. This time Quaxo rolled onto his side, his covers still pulled to his face. He stared blearily at Coricopat for a few moments. Blinking slowly, he allowed his eyes to adjust. His mouth was unbearably dry and he could taste the morning breath. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

“Did you want to join Tantomile and me for breakfast?” He asked, “Victoria is coming too.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 9:30.”

Quaxo let out a long and tired groan that was probably immature but his body was aching and sleep was so tempting. 

“Give me at least ten minutes,” he mumbled, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his arm. 

“Okay,” he could hear the shrug in Coricopat’s voice before he left the room. In the living room of the suite, he could hear other voices. Undoubtedly his suitemates were all awake too. Or Victoria and Tantomile were already over. Quaxo uncovered his face and reached for his phone. Victoria hadn’t texted him about breakfast or coming over. She had texted him around 9:20 that she was nauseous and dehydrated but otherwise had no hangover symptoms.

Quaxo wondered for a moment how Coricopat knew she was coming before figuring that Tantomile must have texted him that. It felt weird though that Victoria hadn’t passed the message along to him. Maybe she figured he wouldn’t join and would stay sleeping for the whole morning. He wasn’t a morning person on the best of days, after all.

He laid there in his (shitty) dorm bed for a second longer before getting up. He wasn’t hit by a wave of nausea or a sudden headache, though he did feel exhausted and very much wanted to crawl back into bed. All the same, he got dressed, noting how much of a mess he looked in the wardrobe mirror before leaving his room. Coricopat was talking to their other suitemate, Pouncival, who was quietly complaining about George’s sleep habits. 

Coricopat looked at him and Quaxo held up two fingers, indicating he was almost ready.

He half-assed his usual morning routine. When it came to doing his hair, he stared in the mirror at the dark curls before deciding to just give up and to wear a beanie. He made sure that the ears stood up straight, the cat beanie was the only one he had and he was going to make sure it didn’t sag. 

Pouncival looked at him when he emerged from the bathroom space (the toilet, shower, and sink were all separated). 

“You look like an e-boy,” he stated.

“E-boys want what I have,” Quaxo deadpanned as he fixed the hat so it covered his ears. 

Coricopat turned to Pouncival, “Are you sure you don’t want to join?” He asked. 

“No, I’m good,” Pouncival shook his head, giving them a small smile, “I have to study for a maths test.”

Coricopat shrugged, not surprised at all by this. “Good luck,” he wished him.

“Maybe next time?” Quaxo offered and Pouncival nodded. He made sure to send Victoria a quick text that they were on their way. 

They didn’t talk too much on their way to the dining hall. Quaxo was grateful for the silence. Coricopat wasn’t the sort that needed constant conversation. It was refreshing to have that. They tended to follow the same train of thought, but it wasn’t the same caliber of Tantomile and Coricopat. Whenever he was alone with the two of them, he felt like a third wheel. They moved together and they didn’t speak whenever they were around each other.

It was easier when Victoria was with them. Whenever she was there, he didn’t have to feel awkward or feel guilty for checking his phone. 

When he saw that they were going off-campus, he couldn’t help but frown. He had been seen worse out in public but that didn’t comfort him much. Instead of saying anything, Quaxo decided to just stay quiet. He didn’t feel like going back after they already left campus. The walk wasn’t long but Quaxo still felt exhausted once they got there. He needed caffeine and food, also water. Quaxo could feel a headache from dehydration building up.

The cafe was warm when they entered. The cold was beginning to nip at QUaxo's nose, the sun had decided to hide behind clouds that day which didn't help. Quaxo took a moment to stand towards the back, looking up at the menu as he tried to decide what would be best for him. All of the food options sounded tempting, the smell of food and coffee made him realize that he was desperate for some kind of subsistence. Quaxo took a second to look over the menu. He looked over at Coricopat to see if he would like to order first. At the small shake of a ‘no’, Quaxo took a step forward to order.

The woman at the counter didn't look much older than him, she looked familiar too. Quaxo did not doubt that she was a student as well. The nametag pinned to her black apron had the name 'Cassandra' on it. She greeted Quazo with a bright and wide smile, one practiced from years of customer service. 

"Good morning, what can I get for you?" She asked, her tone bright and cheery. Everything that he was planning to say left his brain and he stared at her blankly for a moment. 

“Uh,” he began unintelligently. 

She stared at him, taking in his appearance. The customer service act disappeared for a moment as she seemed to relax almost.

"Long night?" She asked, some understanding in her voice.

"Something like that," Quaxo admitted. He thought of the house and Tugger. He wondered if what Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer had said was true. There was a lot that he wanted to know but Quaxo had no idea where to begin. 

Cassandra laughed lightly, her smile a bit more genuine this time. 

"Well, if you don't mind a few suggestions, the honey vanilla chai is good," Cassandra began before explaining the menu options, primarily the special Quaxo listened patiently, eventually deciding to get the chai latte she had suggested and two of the quiches on their menus. He knew that Victoria would need food too, he also knew that his sister was more inclined to eat off of his plate than she was her own.

When he finished ordering, he lingered near the counter, hesitant to leave Coricopat alone. Coricopat looked over at him before nodding his head towards wide and bright windows. Quaxo spotted the platinum shade of Victoria's hair easily. Tantomile noticed him first as Victoria’s back was facing his way. She looked up at him almost as soon as his eyes landed on her and gave him an inviting and small wave to come over and join their table. Victoria turned around and smiled widely when she saw her brother.

Quaxo went over to them once he grabbed his drink and the quiches. He slid into the seat that was next to Victoria, wordlessly putting the plate between them. Victoria looked worst once he got closer to her but the sight of food made her eyes brighten. He felt like she looked worst than he did. Her hair was pulled out of her face, she wore sweatpants that she had gotten from the school store along with an old sweatshirt from high school as if she was ready to go back to bed at any moment. She looked like she could use an hour-long nap. 

Her hand flattened as her fingers touched her chin, she moved her hand down and away from herself. 

"Welcome," he said, signing at the same time. His palms were open before he moved his fingers towards himself as if beckoning. 

"Good morning, Tanto," he greeted the dark-skinned woman with a small smile.

"Good morning, you seem to be doing better than Victoria," her hands moved fluidly as she spoke. 

She was getting better at signing while speaking as she adjusted to living with Victoria. Quaxo was happy that Victoria had gotten a roommate that didn't expect her to accommodate them.

Victoria glared at Tantomile but there was no heat behind the stare. 

"You said I looked fine before we left," she signed.

"You do," Tantomile assured her, "But Quaxoo doesn't look like he puked this morning.”

Victoria's hands began to move as if she had something to say but she just dropped them down and began to investigate the quiche in front of her, a pout on her face as she did.

Quaxo judged her gently with his foot underneath the table and she looked at him.

"You puked?"

"It wasn't that bad," Victoria signed, rolling her eyes. "I had more to drink than you did."

Quaxo snorted and Victoria kicked him before going back to her quiche, forking a piece of it into her mouth with indigence. 

Quaxo just smiled to himself over his tea. 

Tantomile brightened when her brother sat down next to her. He handed her a cup of coffee and the two of them shared a look that Quaxo couldn't read. Whatever passed between them seemed to be agreed upon, since both of them turned and looked at Quaxo and Victoria. 

"So, how was the party last night?" Coricopat asked when Victoria was looking at him. TaQuaxo automatically translated it for her. 

"It was fun," Victoria answered, though there wasn't much actual enthusiasm in it. She glanced over at Quaxo like she wanted to say something else but she didn't, keeping whatever it was private for the moment. 

"It was my first party," Quaxo admitted, "Everyone there was nice, though." That was true. Munkustrap had been a kind host and all of his friends had been warm. Quaxo's thoughts strayed to Tugger for a second and he decided not to remember the other man's face as they sat and talked over late-night grilled cheese and instead to dig into his breakfast.

“Very nice,” Victoria signed, snorting to herself.

He looked over at her, glaring slightly as he tried to figure out what she was getting at. Victoria didn’t elaborate, though the smile on her face as she sipped from her coffee told Quaxo everything that he needed to know. He rolled his eyes, making sure that she was looking at him.

“Did you get Plato’s number?” He signed to her.

“And Rumpleteazer’s,” she signed back effortlessly, not even batting an eye.

Quaxo raised his brows, wanting to know more about that before Tantomile spoke up.

“You met Rumpleteazer?” She asked an expression on her face that was unreadable. That was a typical expression for Tantomile and her brother but something about this one was different. Her eyes were completely unreadable, staring at the two of them. Coricopat was staring at them with the same face.

“And Mungojerrie,” Quaxo stared right back at them.

“We actually went to that house on Rosemary Lane,” Victoria informed them, signing as usual. A frown had appeared on her face as she did so. “Honestly, wish we hadn’t. That place is weird and creepy,” she continued, shaking her head when she was done.

“You went there?” Coricopat said, hissing on his words. It was the most emotion that Quaxo had ever seen and it was dissipated quickly by Tantomile touching her brother on the arm. They shared another look. 

Victoria looked surprised at Coricopat’s reaction as well. She may have not been able to hear what he had said and how he sounded but she understood his rage clear enough. 

“Quaxo wanted to go,” she explained, pointing at him rather than spelling out his name. 

He shrunk back automatically in the cafe chair. It was uncomfortable, pressed against his back but he felt the urge to retreat when both twins gaze locked on him. 

“It seemed interesting,” he answered, which was the truth.

“Did anything happen while you were there?” Tantomile asked, her gaze unwavering.

“Well—”

Victoria had already raised her first, moving it up and down in a bobbing motion, giving them a firm, “Yes.”

“Was it just you two and Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer?” Coricopat asked and if Quaxo didn’t know better, he almost sounded worried.

“No,” Quaxo answered this time, “Munkustrap and his sibling Tugger were there too.” Victoria didn’t take the chance to say something about Tugger.

“Are Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer bad?” Victoria’s eyes had gone wide with worry as she looked at the two. 

Coricopat and Tantomile were far more familiar with what was going on in the school than they were. While they were all the same year, they already had friends who went to the university in similar departments of the school. 

It wasn’t surprising that they knew something about Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. The two looked at each other again, this time their expression was just some apprehension and confusion.

“They’re not bad,” Tantomile signed to Victoria, “They just can be too… mischievous sometimes.”

Victoria visibly relaxed at that, nodding her head this time with a satisfactory answer.

“So, what exactly happened at the house?” Tantomile was looking at Quaxo again. 

“We went inside,” Quaxo poked at the quiche in front of him with his fork, not wanting to elaborate further. It had been difficult enough to explain what had happened to Tugger. He didn’t think he could do it again, especially since he lived with Coricopat. Quaxo didn't want his roommate to think that he was too odd. Quaxo didn’t need to interact with Tugger again, interacting with Coricopat was inescapable. 

He could feel Victoria’s eyes burning into him. She had been there if it bothered her so much she could explain it herself. Quaxo didn’t have to do it. It still didn’t make complete sense to him either. 

He watched her hands carefully as she elaborated.

“Quaxo got weird and wandered off on his own. He tried to enter the garden,” Victoria signed what Quaxo could not.

There was a change in the air. Quaxo suddenly became aware of a magpie’s song coming from outside. The bird’s voice was strong as it sang a melody that was familiar to Quaxo. He looked out the window, only catching a glimpse of fluttering wings as the bird went off somewhere else. 

“Quaxo?” He looked back at Coricopat, who had said his name. Everyone else at the table was looking at him. 

He ran his tongue over the backs of his teeth before biting the bullet and admitting what had happened. 

“I heard a song,” he finally said, “Two people were singing. I followed it to the rose garden and Mungojerrie stopped me before I could step inside of it.” He signed carefully as he spoke as well, not wanting Victoria to miss a detail or misunderstand what he was saying. 

Victoria pointed at him before she placed her hand up to her ear, her hands then making the v shape with her fingers as she circled them away and in front of her mouth. “You heard a song?”

“Yes,” Quaxo made his fist nod, not looking at his sister. 

“Did it have any words?” Tantomile asked him.

“I think so, it wasn’t in a language I understood,” he paused for a moment before humming the melody.

Neither Coricopat and Tantomile said anything. Victoria was looking between the three of them, trying to figure out their reaction just as much as Quaxo was.

“I’m glad that you didn’t go alone,” Coricopat said eventually.

“Are you going to go back?” Tantomile asked him.  
Victoria answered for him, her hands moving fast.

“No. There’s no way either of us will step foot on that hill again, that place was super fucking creepy and I don’t want to find out what weirdo is out there singing,” her face had scrunched up as she signed with rapid movements, too fast for beginners as Tantomile could read.

“She said that we’re not going to,” Quaxo translated, “She doesn’t want to find out who’s out there singing.”

“How do you guys know about that place, anyway? Victoria and I didn’t know until Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer told us,” Quaxo tilted his head at them.

“It’s a well-known story,” Tantomile answered.

“Really?” Quaxo raised his eyebrows, surprised, “We didn’t hear of it until last night.”

“Well, there is a point where everyone has to hear a story for the first time,” Tantomile pointed out.

“Yeah but if you guys knew about it and we’ve been at university for a few months already. You could have easily told us,” he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“I guess we both figured that you already knew,” Tantomile shrugged. 

“I guess so,” Quaxo sighed, it wasn’t like he could hold them accountable for it. There was nothing to hold them accountable for. 

Victoria took the chance to begin a conversation about something else. Quaxo took a moment of silence for himself, just deciding to finally eat. He felt suddenly exhausted by the idea of more conversation.

Eventually, they all decided that they couldn’t just stay in the cafe all day. It was heading into the late morning by the time that they left. Coricopat and Tantomile had made their excuses to leave earlier, so it was only with Victoria that he stepped outside of the cafe. It had gotten a bit colder, any sign of the sun from earlier that morning had been hidden by grey clouds.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t rain,” Victoria signed, a pout on her face as she looked up at the sky.

“It could also just be London being London,” Quaxo responded, though he doubted it. He could smell a storm in the air.

“Hopefully.”

Victoria tugged on his sleeve, pointing with the hand that held her leftover coffee. Quaxo looked over to where she pointed, seeing Tugger walking alongside a tall blonde woman. She looked familiar, though he couldn’t place where he had seen her. Victoria nudged him gently, looking at him before looking at Tugger again.

“What? You want me to call him over here?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

Victoria nodded her head yes.

“He’s out with a friend,” Quaxo shook his head at her, “I don’t want to interrup—”

Before he could finish signing, Victoria let go of him and loudly called out (and it was loud, since Victoria always had a loud volume whenever she chose to spoke).

“Hey!”

It caught their attention since both Tugger and his friend turned and looked over at that. The recognition was almost instant on Tugger’s face. He leaned over to his friend, saying something before he headed towards them.

“Quaxo, Victoria!” Tugger looked at his sister before his eyes focused on Quaxo for a second before he addressed them both. “Not too hungover?”

“Just a little,” Quaxo translated for Victoria, who had gone back to just signing.

“I’m fine,” Quaxo answered for himself., “Your advice to drink water was helpful.”

“I’m glad to hear, the first time I got drunk I felt terrible the morning after,” Tugger’s attention was fully on Quaxo again. His gaze lingered on Quaxo’s hat and he gave him a smirk that made his mouth feel dry.

Victoria wasn’t bothering to hide the sly smile on her face as she sipped on her coffee. She glanced at Tugger and then unsubtly looked at Quaxo, her brows moving up and down. Quaxo ignored her and instead focused on Tugger. He tries not to stare at the curve of his mouth too much but instead finds himself tripping over how long his lashes were and how his dark eyes were focused on Quaxo. 

Quaxo wondered when he had become so shameless.

If Tugger noticed the staring, he didn’t say it. 

“There was something I wanted to ask you last night but it slipped my mind,” Tugger rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Can I have your number?”

All of the blood rushed into Quaxo’s ears and he tried to ignore the heat in his face. He tried to force himself to calm down.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking for my Snapchat.”

He didn’t know why he said that. 

Tugger looked aghast but there was a smirk on his face that broke the illusion of him being upset. He didn’t seem to take what Quaxo said to heart if anything he found it funny.

“I’m a lady, Quaxo, if I take someone out for a late-night dinner I ask for their number before I ask for their Snapchat.”

“Good to know,” he replied dryly before saying his number, which Tugger happily inputed into his phone.

“So, I’ll text you?” Tugger asked it in a tone that Quaxo could have called shy.

“That’s usually what people do when someone gives them their number,” Quaxo couldn’t help the slight teasing smile.

Tugger gave him a wide grin.

“Cool. I’ll see you around sometime,” he began to walk away backward, not looking away from Quaxo until Quaxo gave him a small nod.

“Maybe.”

That seemed to satisfy Tugger enough because he gave Quaxo a wink before jogging over to his friend, who immediately began to talk to him. Quaxo watched the two of them as they walked away, unable to look away from Tugger’s confidant gait. An elbow to his ribs had him jumping and he glared instantly at Victoria.

“What?”

“You were flirting,” Victoria signed, the all too pleased smile on her face didn’t go away.

“That’s not flirting,” his face felt ten times more hot again and he knew that blush was visible.

“Are you sure about that? It sure seemed like flirting to me,” Victoria made a small cooing sound. Quaxo hated that sound, she always did it whenever she felt that she knew more than him.

“Pretty sure,” Quaxo was not going to give her the satisfaction she craved. He honestly didn't think that it qualified as flirting. He didn’t want to trick himself into thinking there was an interest there. That would be a reality check that Quaxo didn’t want to think about.

Victoria frowned at him, not at all pleased with his answer.

“Fine,” she shrugged. “Are you doing anything else today?”

Quaxo shook his head and his sister’s frown went away instantly. 

“Let’s watch movies together at my dorm. Tantomile said earlier she was going to be out for the rest of the day and I think the other girls are busy,” Victoria invited. It was hard to deny his sister that.

“Alright,” he agreed, letting her pull him back in the directions of the dorms. From a tree somewhere, he heard the magpies song again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, Tugger referring to himself as a lady isn't a joke although he says it in a jokingly matter. I've written him as being enby since the beginning but haven't really referenced it till now. He's nonbinary because I said so.


	4. Atop the Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which obsessions begin to bloom.

The corner of Quaxo’s mouth twitched down into a frown as he finished the last of his steps and fumbled into the end of the combo. In his peripheral, he could see his professor making her way over to him. 

“Let’s go through that again, same speed,” she addressed the class though her eyes lingered on Quaxo. 

The combo began with a tombe pas de bourrée before Quaxo slid down before stepping fifth behind, fourth. He crossed his left leg in front going into a tombe coupe. This time, he easily went into the next steps. He reached his leg behind, making him turn slightly from one implement into the other. Professor Anydots watched him with careful eyes as he finished the renversé traveling combination that she had thrown at them that day.

Apparently satisfied with what she saw, Anydots looked out at the rest of the class, “We’ll be going in actual tempo now.”

Quaxo moved with the rest of the class, trying to focus on the movement of his body. He just couldn’t stop thinking.

His mind was occupied by two thoughts; one was of the house atop Rosemary Lane, the other was Tugger.

The latter had been texting him a lot. They hadn’t seen each other again, Quaxo being both too nervous and too busy to accept any invitations.

The house consumed his thoughts. Quaxo could not stop thinking about the song that he had heard. The air had felt different there and something about it made Quaxo want to step in. He wanted to go into the labyrinth. 

He breathed slowly, straightening himself out to get the full capacity of his lungs. Even after practices, it was obvious to him just what years of binding and dancing had done to his chest. It wasn’t awful but it was annoying. 

Anydots clapped her hands and the whole class gave her their immediate attention. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, considering something before nodding to herself. “Go into your cool down,” she instructed them. The music was changed from what they had been doing their combination with to something more mellow as they all stretched themselves out.

Quaxo believed that he was in the clear and that she wouldn’t say anything to him.

He thought wrong.

Anydots walked up to him, “Quaxo, what went wrong back there? You caught your mistakes quickly, which makes me wonder if there’s something on your mind.” She was staring at him, a touch of concern on her face. 

“I wasn’t focused,” he admitted to her, “It won’t happen again.” Anydots didn’t look angry but Quaxo wanted to cover his tracks, he meant it too. Zoning out when he danced was something he didn’t do, not in a way that it makes him stumble. When Quaxo danced, he always went somewhere else. But this wasn’t that. His mind wasn’t blank with a form of meditation, it was instead filled with flashes of Tugger’s smile in a pub and there was a song stuck between his ears that would not stop.

“I understand if you’re feeling overwhelmed by things, the first year of university is always difficult,” Anydots attempted to reassure him, giving him a soft look, “If you ever need anything, don’t be afraid to contact our counseling services.”

“I will don’t worry,” he told her, a pleasant smile on his face. Anydots seemed satisfied with that response and left to go talk to another student. 

Quaxo stood to his full height, finished with his stretching. He did need something but there was nothing that the counseling people could do about it. He gave a quick glance at his phone, checking the time as he took off his slippers and went back to his usual boots. Once he was covered by his hoodie, Quaxo collected his things and left the dance room.

It was only four. Quaxo’s classes that day were early, which was both a blessing and a curse. It meant he had more time to focus on what he needed to get down, be it rehearsing for the freshman showcase or writing a paper for his literature class. Which Quaxo needed to do.

There weren’t many notifications on his phone. Most were from his roommate group chat, Alonzo, asking them if they needed anything from the store while he was there. Quaxo replied that he was fine, heading back to his dorm to take a shower. 

The library wasn’t very busy when he got there. A few students were lingering throughout, taking up spots on tables and in the workrooms. Quaxo realized that he had no idea where to begin. He had been to the library before but when it came to this, he knew that there wasn’t going to be just a section of bookshelves lined up with information about the hill.

Quaxo took a quick look around, seeing a young woman at the desk. He hesitated before approaching her. She looked up at him when he got close to her and Quaxo realized that he recognized her. Her hair was dyed blonde on the bottom, the top showing her dark roots. Her face was open and friendly and he knew that he had seen her before. He couldn’t place her name though, glancing quickly to see if she had a name badge on. 

“Quaxo, right?” She greeted him before he could spot one. 

“Uh, yeah, I am,” Quaxo blinked at her, trying to figure out where it was that he knew her from, or rather she knew him.

“I’m Demeter,” she gave him a bright smile, “I don’t think we’ve been actually introduced to each other.”

“Oh!” Quaxo felt his shoulders relax, “You’re Munkustrap’s girlfriend, right? And you were out with Tugger the other day.” 

“Yeah. Tugger was especially happy to get your number,” she said, her voice heavy in a tone that made Quaxo’s palms feel a little clammy.

“Oh?” He tried desperately not to think of Tugger’s smile and the warmth of the pub. 

Demeter looked at him as if trying to decide something before her smile went to something smaller, it was still friendly. “Did you need help with something?”

His focus was instantly back on the house instead of Tugger.

“Is there a way to look at logs or diaries or something like that? Specifically, anything detailing the past of Rosemary Lane?” Quaxo forced himself to stay looking at Demeter. He watched as her expression went from confusion to something like apprehension as he spoke.

“Munkustrap mentioned that you guys went there. Why do you want to know more?”

“It’s interesting.”

Demeter raised her brows at him but pinched her mouth, not saying anything further. Quaxo was glad for it, not wanting to explain to her why he wanted to look into it. He didn’t really think that he could explain it. Telling someone that there was a song in his head and he could still smell the air of the garden probably wouldn’t bode well for him. 

“What exactly do you want to see? It sounds like you’re just looking for general information,” Demeter continued on like normal.

“Yeah, anything about it really,” Quaxo worried the strings of his hoodie between his thumb and forefinger. 

“We do have all of those things online. The Jellicles wrote a lot to friends and in their diaries,” she shifted the screen towards him, showing him just where to access it. 

“Great, thank you,” a sort of relief washed over him. There was information out there that he could read. He could know  _ more _ . Something about that satiated an itch just slightly. 

Demeter was giving him a look again, one that he couldn’t read. “No problem,” she said, “Did the story scare you that much?” 

“Just a little,” Quaxo answered honestly, “I really am just interested in it.”

Demeter hummed, “Well, have fun. You can pretty much access it from any computer. A library one still might be better since it’s a bigger screen.”

“Thanks again,” Quaxo told her, beginning to feel squirmy under her gaze.

“If you need anything else I’ll be here,” she gestured to the desk she stood at and Quaxo nodded before leaving.

A library computer would be better for him but he didn’t want anyone to see what he was doing. If Demeter’s reaction was something to go off of, then if anyone else did see him they would make a comment. Other than Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, no one else seemed to have fun with the story. 

Quaxo could get Rumpleteazer’s number from Victoria easily. Rumpleteazer definitely didn’t seem the type to be shy about people’s private information, so she would give him Mungojerrie’s number too if he asked. 

He made his way back towards his dorm, sending a text to Victoria for Rumpleteazer’s number. 

She hadn’t responded by the time that he reached his dorm. He dug out his laptop and sat on his bed, shoving himself in the corner so that his screen faced the wall.

Quaxo then began to read. He skipped over the story of Grizabella, remembering the details of the story clearly. Instead, he dived into the journals that were written by the Jellicle family. He started with Grizabella’s. It was only natural since she had been the subject of the first story.

The beginning was nothing incredibly interesting. It detailed their moving onto the hill. The majority of it was discussion of the furniture and how she was worried that their bureau may have been scratched by workers. Most of Grizabella’s writings didn’t focus on her family much, either. While there were mentions of her husband and her children, she was focused on reminiscing about her career.

Scanning the document, Quaxo slowly read through the facts of Grizabella’s life. It was admittedly difficult to read the scanned documents. Her writing was small and curled together in the perfect cursive that everyone seemed to write with back then. He almost missed the first sentence of interest.

_ The rose garden is growing spectacularly. Although the land hasn’t been well taken care of for some time, the hedges have grown tall and the bushes are full. Summer has only just begun but I feel as if it may be ready to host in soon. Elias wishes to have those contributing to the university for a party soon. Perhaps I’ll be able to sing. It’s been some time since I’ve been able to perform in front of others. I worry I may be having to act like a good hostess to find the time in the evening to do so. Hopefully, Elias can get us more help for the evening. The children could also assist, they’re old enough now that they should learn how to host themselves. _

_ I would love to be back in the middle of the floor, as I used to be when I was a young girl, and sing. There is a magpie that has begun to build a nest near our garden. Elias says that it’s bad luck for the magpie to come on its own. One for sorrow, I suppose. I believe it will have friends soon so there will be no need to worry.  _

_ The magpie sings beautifully. I often find myself sitting near where it’s constructing its nest. I like to hear it sing, the song sounds familiar yet alluring in all of its unknowns.  _

Quaxo shifted, almost trying to put his face closer to his screen as he continued to read. 

_ Tonight was electric. The party went on well enough. They were impressed by how quickly we have settled into the hill. A few joked about the curse that lays here. Elias thankfully doesn’t believe in that nonsense. He’s a sensible man, for all of his downfalls. I can’t deny that some of the stories frighten me. They’re ghost stories meant to keep children from wandering where they’re not supposed to. Dewey Finn had the gall to even advise me to give something to the Other Folk. Clearly, the spirits we were offering were too much for him. _

_ I am not writing about him to you. Mister Finn has offered Elias a generous donation, as an artist himself, but he’s otherwise unimportant to me.  _

_ I was able to sing tonight. My worries were settled, Elias having made sure that we had capable hands to help with the dinner. Everything ran smoothly without me having to fret too much. It had felt nice to be able to be watched as I sang. I used to live for performance during my days with the opera company. It was like second nature for me to sing for others. The energy that the performance gave me is something I feel as if I could live off of.  _

_ A man had approached me after my song. He was tall and handsome, with hair redder than the sky at dusk. He was charming. When he grabbed my hand and invited me for a dance, I could not refuse. We had a delightful conversation that continued well into the night. If we had been allowed too, I’m sure it would have gone for much longer. It’s a shame, though, as I didn’t get his name. He knows mine but I can’t remember him mentioning his own. I would ask Elias but he had been eyeing us the more time we spent together.  _

_ I do believe I’ll see him again. I’m sure that we are bound by something larger. _

After that entry, there was nothing left to read of Grizabella’s. Quaxo refreshed the page, making sure that it wasn’t an error on the internet. The refresh didn’t yield any new results so Quaxo sat back against the wall and stared at his screen. He had to assume that the man she was talking to had been Macavity. It didn’t make sense why Macavity hadn’t introduced himself to her but if the ghost story was real, then there was probably some reason for it. Either that or Grizabella had an affair.

He wondered if there was a way to find the rest of Grizabella’s journals. They had to exist. Grizabella disappeared later and it was unlikely that she stopped writing. 

Quaxo went back to the main page of information, scrolling through it to see if he had missed something. Maybe they had split Grizabella’s diaries into two different sections. There had been a lot. But Quaxo could only find what was left of Elias’ and even their children.

He went into Elias’, hoping that there would be more there. Quaxo didn’t know what he was searching for but he wanted  _ something _ . 

Most of Elias’ journals, like Grizabella’s, covered the boring daily musings that he went through. A lot of it was focused on the construction of the university which would be fascinating if Quaxo actually cared for the history. He skipped past most of it. There was more written than there had been for Grizabella’s. It didn’t look like Elias’ journals were complete, either. There were sections that were removed, page numbers that didn’t match up or notices in the middle of the diary that state the ink was too faded to scan properly.

Quaxo didn’t believe it but it wasn’t as if he could contest it. Hidden in all of Elias’ musings, were things that he was looking for. It was a letter, written to a friend. 

Elias also wrote about a song. It wasn’t with the interest that Grizabella had. He seemed put off by it, not trusting the sounds of music in the night.

_ It is as if there is a party atop this hill almost every night. There is laughter coming from the trees and a song being weaved through the air. The music is lovely, joyful, a piece that I would have danced to as a young boy. I do not wish for my family to hear it any longer, I no longer want to hear it. _

_ Grizabella, my lovely lady wife, is especially taken with the song. The children have not mentioned it but I hear my Grizabella humming it under her breath. I had assumed at first that she simply sang it due to missing singing herself. I know it isn’t easy for her, going from being a diva to having to care for a home but our life is happy. I wish for her to stay happy so I gave her the chance to sing. She had been beautiful in the middle of the floor, just as she had been when we were younger. _

_ I wasn’t the only one enchanted by her. It’s not hard for people to be taken by Grizabella especially when she sings. A man had approached her, however, after her song. I didn’t recognize him. He had not introduced himself to me and it hadn’t seemed like he was there to accompany someone else. He talked to my wife all night. Now, I am not a jealous man, you know me to be level headed.  _

_ Yet I can not describe the  _ rage  _ that filled me when I saw this gentleman speaking to Grizabella. There was something wrong about him, George. Every time I stepped towards them, the man seemed to notice and would walk away. He never once looked in my direction, it was as if he had merely sensed that I was coming near. This all may just be me being paranoid. This man could have just been a stranger who took a chance to flirt with my wife. But I can not shake that there is something wrong. Even now, there is something that lingers in the air. _

_ I can no longer go into the rose garden. After the incident that occurred last time, I refuse to step foot into it. Grizabella doesn’t understand. She is charmed by it, she spends most of her time either there or in the drawing-room. The children enjoy it but they are children, they are simply pleased to have space where they can get dirty.  _

_ What is wrong with the rose garden was here long before we moved to this land. I thought that the hill was a lovely spot. It easily has a view over what will one day be the entirety of Jellicle University. I can see the current building we have. It was enough for me to ignore the locals' warnings of this hill. A man had commented to our head-housemaid when we were moving in to make sure each door has iron above it and the windows are lined with salt. Others in the town apparently whisper to our help when they’re out about the strange goings-on the hill. assume whatever stories they tell are simply nonsense. We are not in the countryside, even there I would not take their stories with much credence.  _

_ These stories have taken some occupation of my children’s time. Some of the help has been telling it to them and while there is no harm in it, in fact, I believe that tales of changelings can instill some caution in the children, they leave me feeling far more unsettled than I would like. I am not a fool, George. I do not believe in Other Folk or spirits.  _

_ All the same, a magpie has made the rose garden it’s home. I fear that there may be sorrow soon and only hope that a second bird will show up.  _

Quaxo startled up from his reading when the bedroom door opened. Coricopat stood in the doorway, an odd expression on his face as he looked at him. 

“You okay?” He asked a slight expression of amusement on his face.

“Fine,” Quaxo answered although his heart rate had increased exponentially.

“Working on something?” Coricopat made casual conversation as he went around the room, setting all of his stuff from the day down. 

“I’m doing research.”

“Oh, right, you’re taking your English credit this quarter aren’t you?”

Quaxo felt some relief when Coricopat assumed that he had been working on an assignment like a good student. “Yeah, I am,” he nodded, finally taking the chance to look at his phone for the first time in hours apparently. Their dorm room was steadily getting darker. Coricopat’s last class got out around five, there was an ache in QUaxo’s hips from sitting in the same position on his bed for so long as well. 

His phone had quite a few texts. Victoria had sent him Rumpleteazer’s number along with several memes. Tugger had also texted him, something that instantly distracted from anything Coricopat was saying, Rumpleteazer, and his laptop.

**[Tugger]**

do you have any dinner plans?

if you don’t, do you want to go out with me?

It had been sent twenty minutes ago, still in the window to be responded to without being odd.

**[Quaxo]**

Sure

**[Tugger]**

cool, i can swing by your dorm?

**[Quaxo]**

I’ll be here

**[Tugger]**

see you in fifteen

Tugger’s response came faster than expected. Quaxo couldn’t say that he minded much. It meant that Tugger had been possibly waiting for him to respond. He felt something warm at that thought. His stomach had already twisted into a bundle of nerves, eager to see the other again. 

Quaxo gave himself a preview in his mirror, unable to help his worry about his appearance. Coricopat had left, maybe having noticed Quaxo’s lack of interest in talking to him. He felt bad about that, not having meant to ignore Coricopat. 

His phone buzzed again with a text from Tugger and any other thoughts left Quaxo’s head as he went downstairs to meet with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that everyone is doing well and is safe right now. Please remember to wash your hands, sanitize your phones and practice social distancing. Things are rough for a lot of people, including me, right now. This too shall pass though, and hopefully, our society (or at least, American society) will actually improve because of it.
> 
> I feel as if this chapter drags a little but we're heading into the more meaty bits soon so I hope you can all enjoy it just the same. :)
> 
> Also, there are three Florence + The Machine songs in this stories playlist, in case you forgot what it's about.


	5. Night Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, a dance is given. In which thread is pulled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware of the tag changes.

Quaxo is vaguely familiar with the rib-crushing ache that he felt in his chest upon seeing Tugger. He didn’t remember it burning so harshly last time he had it. For a moment, he forgets to speak and the familiar dry sensation that he always gets when Tugger speaks to him is back. Tugger hadn’t even said hello yet and Quaxo nearly misses it when he does, too focused on the sound of his own heartbeat in his chest. 

“Hi,” Quaxo greeted him in return, remembering how to speak, “You got here fast, you said it would be fifteen minutes?” He raised an eyebrow, a small smile coming to his face. Tugger’s hair wasn’t done up, the curls all combed over to fall on one side.

“I’m hungrier than I thought,” Tugger’s smile was crooked and Quaxo’s eyes caught on the piercing in his bottom lip, “And maybe I wanted to see you too.” His eyes flicked up to Tugger’s face.

“Oh,” he said, breath caught in his throat. 

He shoved his hands down into his pockets, resisting the urge to sign, “You mentioned something about you performing?” He asked, only looking away for a second. Even though he had been drunk, he still remembered it. The night was hard to forget in general but he couldn’t help but cling onto everything Tugger said.

Tugger looked at him, his smile shifting into something softer as he began to tell Quaxo about his band’s next performance. He offered Quaxo his elbow and Quaxo paused before he took it. He resisted the urge to sink into Tugger’s warmth. Usually, he didn’t touch anyone but Victoria, but his arm in Tugger’s felt nice. He sped up his walk before Tugger slowed, the two of them finding a pace that worked. 

“We tend to play local shows,” Tugger said as he carefully led Quaxo to where they were going to go eat, “They are punk shows though so if you want to come and don’t want to be in the mosh pit, it’s better to stand far off on the sides.”

“How wild do they get?” Quaxo asked. He had never been to a concert before, namely because he didn’t really have anyone to go with. 

“Depends on the crowd,” Tugger looked at him, “The more hardcore ones tend to be in the smaller venues.”

Quaxo wondered just how far into his on-stage persona Tugger got into. He wanted to see him in action, could imagine just how wide that crooked smile would get. He wanted to see Tugger like that. 

“I want to go to one of your concerts,” Quaxo told him, surprising himself by how easily he said it. 

“Yeah?” Tugger looked elated, a grin on his face before he pressed his lips into a smile, biting lightly on his bottom lip. Quaxo could see him playing with the piercing in his lip. 

He felt dizzy but managed a small smile, feeling suddenly shy yet a buzz ran through him still.

“Yeah, maybe I can go with a friend or something,” Quaxo mentioned, “Or on my own. Depending.”

“On?” 

Quaxo paused before he said anything. A million things to say on the tip of his tongue. 

On how long you play for. How long until I can be near you again. And he was admittedly selfish too, he wanted to be the only one to see Tugger like that.

“If I can convince a dormmate or not,” that was true too though Quaxo was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to.

“Well, if you come alone or not we can still hang out after our set,” Tugger still looked pleased. They reached Tugger’s car quickly and Quaxo longed for contact again when they were in the car. It was a short drive so he didn’t reach out and didn’t get the chance before they were entering the small restaurant. It was close to campus but a walk from the dorms, especially with how windy it was outside. 

Dinner was casual, nice. Tugger’s legs had kept touching his and he couldn’t help but bump them back. 

The drive back was filled with questions from both ends. When Tugger asked a question, he asked one back in return. Tugger learned that he and Victoria were fraternal, he learned that Tugger and Munkustrap’s dad was an anthropologist. Tugger told him about the time he managed to get a pick at a concert from his favorite band and Quaxo told him about the summer that he and Victoria had taken it upon themselves to raise seven kittens he found in a hat.

By the time that Quaxo was back at his dorm, he felt hesitant to go. 

“I’ll text you the details about the show?” Tugger asked, rocking back and forth on his feet. 

“I hope so, can’t show up if you don’t tell me where,” Quaxo’s hand rested on his keycard to get into the building. 

“Well, then both of us would be majorly missing out, especially you,” Tugger winked at him.

“That doesn’t work on me,” he said, even though it did.

Tuggers tongue peeked through his teeth as he smiled, “I’ll just have to work harder then.”

“Have a good rest of your night, Tugger,” he was first to dismiss himself.

“See you later,” Tugger gave him one more flash of the crooked grin before Quaxo was slipping inside and he was heading back to his car. Quaxo wasn’t able to focus on anything else for the rest of the day, zoning out on everything else as he replayed conversations in his mind.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that he realized that Tugger had paid both times that they had eaten out together. Quaxo never was fully comfortable with people doing that, not without him paying them back somehow. He would have to pay if they went out again. Still, the thought followed him as he went to sleep.

Both Coricopat and him had fallen asleep without making sure to close the sole window in the middle of their room. A shiver ran up his spine as the cool night air pressed a kiss on the back of his neck. It roused him out of sleepy but he just pulled his sheets tighter around himself, trying to just go straight back to sleep. His eyes were closed when he heard the song. 

The earphones that he had fallen asleep in had been removed from his ears by him turning in his sleep. The sound of a song had him relaxing before his body was quickly stiffening with recognition. Suddenly awake, he sat up before quietly getting out of his bed. He went towards the window, tossing a look towards Coricopat. His roommate didn’t rouse just letting out a heavy sigh as he slept, mumbling something Quaxo couldn’t understand. The usual sleep talking.

  
He didn’t lift the window higher, not wanting to freeze. Standing near it, he could feel just how cold out it was. When the wind blew in, so did the song. It was distant, almost an echo. Quaxo stared out the window, seeing nothing but the glowing street lamps and darkness of the dormitory plaza.

He closed the window for Coricopat. 

Quickly but still as quiet as he could, Quaxo pulled on the warmest jumper he could find, shoving socks over his sweatpants and grabbing a jacket for good measure. He left his shared room as quietly as he could, sliding his jacket on and grabbing his keys. Quaxo left the dorm, putting his shoes on once he was outside of the door. 

Shoving his keys in his pocket, he realized that he had left his phone on his bed. Going back for it might wake someone up, though, so he decided to just leave it. He wouldn’t be long, anyway. Leaving quickly so that he couldn’t think twice about it, Quaxo made his way out of his building. Once he stepped outside, the song was audible again. He began to walk.

He knew that he was being stupid when he reached the hill. It was dangerous, students weren’t allowed for a reason and he was alone. Yet he had come anyway. Quaxo figured that he could turn around and go back but his legs moved forward. A thrum in his veins that made him want to go up. The want was undeniable. 

No, not a want. A need. He needed to return to the hill. Victoria wouldn’t do it with him and he doubted that Tugger would want to. For a second, his thoughts were taken away from the hill he was climbing. His nose was filled with the smell of Tugger’s aftershave and the burning sensation came back to his chest. He paused for a second, a moment’s hesitation. He hadn’t brought his phone but his hand still itched out for it, wanting to text Tugger, see the other’s face again.

It was too late for birds to be awake but Quaxo’s thoughts are broken by the call of a magpie. He blinked, resetting himself. The earth of Rosemary Lane is stable and solid beneath his feet as he continued his trek.

This time it was easier for him to see. The moon was full and large. The bitter cold of an autumn night bit at his ears and he regretted not bringing a scarf.

It’s a steep hill but he reached the top eventually. Quaxo takes a moment to breathe, staring straight at the house atop the hill. The house stares back at him, still looming and hungry. But Quaxo was not there for the house. While he couldn’t stop thinking about it, it was the hill itself that he was there for. He inhaled once before releasing it slowly, the rustling of leaves accompanying his breath. 

There wasn’t the sound of crickets to fill the night air. It should have been disconcerting that Quaxo could hear nothing but the steady rhythm of his own breathing and the wind.

  
He shuddered but could not tell if it was from the cold. The taste of ozone was back on his tongue and in the air. 

The song was back in his ears. It was louder this time, the harmony and rhythm the same with the heavenly voices all floating together in one. He listened carefully this time, still unable to tell what the song was saying. It didn’t matter. He allowed the harmonies to lead him through the hole in the fence, easily getting through even without Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer there to hold it open for him. He was small and lithe, the curls of his hair almost getting stuck on a sharp part of the fence but Quaxo easily able to worm his way through. 

The song was louder once he stepped back onto the grounds proper. In the moonlight, the grass was a dark blue hue, a silver shine over all that it could touch. The grass was taller than he had thought the first time they had gone to the house. It reached his ankles, sticky with precipitation and the oncoming morning dew. It clung to his shoes but he ignored it in favor of pushing on.

Quaxo walked, eyes wides and hands trembling as he followed the song again. He reached the stone path, glowing a blue-grey in the darkness. The song increased in volume the closer he got. He hovered on the edge of the archway. 

For the second time, he looked at it. It was just as looming as before yet it had changed. He ran his tongue along the bottom of his top teeth, pressing into them to try and ground himself. He blinked once, twice, and the white flowers that had shimmered on the archway were gone. But the song was not. 

It was inviting, enticing. Beyond the archway, he could hear the sound of laughter, it jingled like bells as it bounced in his ears. 

He continued down the path, ignoring the overgrown weeds that had begun to crack and creep their way through the stone. Quaxo did not feel the ground beneath his feet, lightless as he walked through the archway. 

A ripple in the air and Quaxo stepped backward, heart beating in his chest. It seemed to throw him off balance, the ringing of bells in his ears increasing as he could hear the song at the highest volume. 

Quaxo wasn’t sure what he was seeing but there was no singer in sight. 

He was surrounded by tall hedges that climbed up into the sky. He took a step forward, looking around carefully and slowly. There was no one there, even though the song was still in the air. A laugh came from beside him and he startled, turning around. He was met only with a wall of leaves. The ringing had stopped but the song had continued, shifting this time to something new. It was less melancholic yet still slow. 

His hand did not feel like his own as he reached out and touched the leaves. He grabbed one of them, unthinking plucking it from the hedge. The rest swayed with the slight rush of the wind. Quaxo didn’t feel his own body swaying with the wind and the music. He rubbed his fingers along the leaf, feeling the waxy yet smooth texture. With the assistance of the moon, it was clear that it was just an ordinary leaf. Still, he held onto it as he continued down the path, the coldness that had seeped into it spreading into his own fingers. 

Electricity coursed through him, his skin sensitive to the cold night air. Something was coiling in his stomach, twisting around in the familiar sense of anticipation but there was something else there that he couldn’t quite trace. The song in his ears persisted and he followed after it, soon coming to a divergence in the path. He took the path down to the left, northbound as he sought the source of the haunting he heard.

It led him to a clearing at a dead end, a ring of mushrooms within it. Quaxo stepped forward without hesitance or thinking. It was not the path beginning to diverge that he took in with wide eyes, his fingernails digging into the flesh of leaf as he watched. There was a sudden rush of air throughout his body, a pounding of energy beneath his flesh that made him want to join. A sudden flood that the music hit him, clearer and stronger than before. He could hear the chimes of bells, the ringing of tambourines, the beat of drums as the song crescendoed. The singing was still there but now Quaxo could fully hear their song.

Quaxo stayed towards the edge of the ring, frozen in place as he saw the dancing people for the first time. 

No singer or musician was in sight but there were dancers closer to the middle of the ring. Their arms stayed looped together as the song stopped suddenly, the rise and fall of their shoulders visibly as they caught their breath. Someone laughed and the others began laughing too but at what, Quaxo didn’t know. Their smiles were jovial and easy but there was a sharpness too it.

And then the song began again and their bodies were bending, separating from each other as they bent backward before forwards again. Their feet moved in elegant circles as they all twirled in the same direction, moving in the shape of a ring. Their hands rose as the beat picked up and clapped along, voices rising as they sang along in an unknown tongue. 

The music picked up tempo yet the dancers did not falter. They matched the music, their twisting and spinning only becoming faster and faster. They were dancing in jubilation. Each movement spoke of fun and joy. It was enough to almost make him want to join but he didn’t want to stop watching.

Quaxo stood, transfixed by the silver shine on their skin and hair as they danced in the autumn air. All of the dancers were beautiful, most were young adults, all with blinding white smiles. He watched as their hands moved down and they joined hands only for a few to step into the inner circle. Instant, the two circles moved in different directions. He could not stop watching as a young woman lifted her arms in the air once more. Her hands and arms moved as if they were fluid, never touching each other yet seeming to twine together.

She danced on the balls of her feet, bare toes in the wet grass. She spun, carefree. One foot came in front of the other as she propelled herself into the careful twirls. Around her ankles, her skirt fluttered and joined the dance. And suddenly she stopped and Quaxo looked up from where he had been carefully observing the steps of the dance to her face.

She was looking right back at him.

All of them were, in fact. A dozen eyes stared at him and Quaxo found himself stepping back, sudden panic gripping him by the throat. He looked over his shoulder, hoping he could run faster than six and regretting not bringing his phone.

There was a hand on his back, the light touch sending him forward again as he twisted, managing to keep his footing as he turned to see who had touched him. A man stood in front of him, hands held up in a surrendering gesture. 

“I apologize,” a smooth voice accompanied with a slight Irish accent, “Didn’t mean to startle you. Though, you’re really the one who startled us.” He looked down at Quaxo, smile wide and warm. 

Quaxo took him in, he was taller than Tugger was practically towering over Quaxo, his hair was slicked back yet still held a bounce to it, the color hard to tell even with the full moon above them. His features were sharp, their eyes meeting and Quaxo realizing that he was staring right back at him too.

The man tilted his head, his smile showing a bit more teeth now. 

“Are you a student?”

Quaxo struggled for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he apologized, “I’ll leave.” He began to move to get out of the clearing. He could hear quiet murmuring from the five remaining people that still stood close together.

“Do you want to dance?” The man was asking before Quaxo could get close. The question had come out softly, almost soothing when he offered. His hand stretched out to him. The smell of a rose in the middle of summer was in the air.

“You can say no, of course. But it’ll just be one dance. It’s the Harvest Moon tonight. We’re just celebrating.”

Quaxo stared at the hand in front of him and then back at the man. They had all seemed to be having fun. His gaze flicked towards the entrance before he looked at the man again. He reached his hand out to accept before stopping himself, staring up at the man.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

There wasn’t a chance to hear an answer, music starting and his hand was suddenly grabbed. The drums started first, a heavy rhythmic pounding that Quaxo could feel from all around him. The man pulled him into a dance, charming smile seeming full of sharp teeth before Wuaxo was spun around, his hand being grabbed by another.

They wrapped their arm around Quaxo’s by the elbow, he quickly began to fall into step, looking at the person next to him with wide eyes. It was the young woman he had been watching, her smile was bright and welcoming. 

“Just one dance!” Encouraged the man.

“Okay,” Quaxo agreed, not having time to look back at him as he watched her closely as he did before. She held the same grace that Victoria did but it wasn’t the same type of excitement that his sister danced with. 

She didn’t say anything as she led him into the steps of the dance.

She stepped closer to him, her shoulder brushing into him as she turned carefully before her back was against his chest. Quaxo found himself following her lead automatically. He allowed her to guide both of their bodies. Her feet nudged his apart as she stepped with one carefully between his own and the other next to his back foot. She guided him into a few quick steps before her arm slipped out of his, both of her hands grabbing his own as she spread out both of their arms. She dropped his left hand first, their arms wrapping around each other like vines in one fluid movement before they were linked by the elbow again. They spun until both of them connected with someone else’s in the circle. 

  
His smile was breathless as he performed the steps the way that she did, his body moving on its own. Another spin and he felt dizzy, the smell of roses seemed overwhelming. But it was fun. He pulled the person that he landed on along with the music. 

They said something to him in the same language that the song was in. 

Quaxo shook his head, “I don’t know what you’re saying.” He spoke slightly louder for them to hear. And then he was linking arms with someone else again. Quaxo almost missed a step when he heard a voice call out from close behind him, his previous partner speaking. 

“I said you’re a born natural!” Their laugh was the pitter of rain against a tin roof.

He couldn't process what they had said before he swapped to a new partner, landing on the man who had invited him to dance in the first place. 

His back pressed against the man’s chest but it was the tall man that led the dance. The steps were different, the music had slowed down although it did not get quieter. Once again both of his hands were grabbed, yet it was an almost waltz-like dance that he was pulled into this time. The man’s arm came around Quaxo’s lower back as he was dipped only to be pulled back up fast enough that he was flooded with vertigo. 

He looked out at the others and although they were still paired up, they did not do the same dance that the tall man had grabbed Quaxo into.

He was spun, his feet still steady as he stopped, only for the stranger to slide their palms together. They moved, back and forth, swayed side to side as they circled each other. The stranger was looking at him, eyes sharp and a smile like a thorn before Quaxo was being pulled into another dance by someone else. The music had changed again, accelerating to the tempo it had started off with. 

This time two different people grabbed his hands. As a whole, they moved forward into the circle, going out then in again as the wind breathed with them. Together they moved, their arms managing not to get tangled with each other as he twisted with all of them. And then the circle was moving out again, bending low only to rise. Quaxo could smell the cool night air again as he danced on his own yet with the others. 

Suddenly the pace picked up again and once again, he was being pulled by the elbows. It was rapid-fire switching. One arm would be grabbed by someone and the other by someone else very quickly after. It wasn’t chaotic yet it held the same frenzy, the same push and shove motion. 

He caught someone’s eyes and they glowed yellow right back at him. Quaxo was slammed back into someone else as the dance changed again. Still fast, almost impossibly slow they all began to turn on their toes. All of their hands lifted up to the sky in a ‘u’ shape and he found himself moving downwards quickly, bowing before his body pulled itself up again and he was still spinning.

A sense of wrongness filled his body yet he couldn’t stop. 

The pace of the music had only increased. It was erratic, all of the dancers moving at a break-neck pace. Suddenly the music stopped, an erupt ending that left Quaxo spinning on his feet. He quickly lost his footing, trying to stop himself. He landed on his backside, wincing at the impact. Someone from the group laughed and someone else grabbed him by his hands and pulled him back onto his feet. 

His breath came out in heavy and hard pants as he looked at the stranger. He could taste iron in the back of his throat.

“Thank you for the dance,” the man smiled at him, dazzling and bright, “We’ll see you again sometime.” He covered one of Quaxo’s hands with his own, giving Quaxo one squeeze before letting go. He struggled to find his words, his wind still not back. 

There was nothing that he  _ could _ say.

  
  


He woke up, phone under his left shoulder as it went off with his morning alarm. The scent of roses lingered in his nose.


	6. Linnaea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which vine begins to grow. In which a conversation occurs.

There was no dirt or twigs to clean from his skin hut Quaxo still scrubbed and washed his hair like there was. The cold sweat that had dried on his skin had been wiped off. The front of the shirt he had slept in had felt damp by the collar and he only hoped that it was night sweats. Instead of the oppressive smell of roses filling his nose, it was replaced with the scent of his body wash. Yet it still lingered in the back of his mind. 

Quaxo could still feel the dance in his muscles as he got out of his shower. He had been the first to hop in and despite the ache, he moved quickly to get out without George complaining about him taking too long. It was Friday and the soreness could be easily explained off as a result of dancing or stretching in class. He tried to reason with himself that that was all it was. He repeated it like a mantra in his head with each tense muscle. It felt like when he had first started. 

Thinking about it made Quaxo want to crawl back into bed. He made the beeline back to his bed. He could curl up there, maybe text Tugger or Victoria. Write it off as a dream.

It hadn’t helped that Corciopat had given him an odd look when he came back into the room. Like there was a question he wasn’t asking. 

Instead, all he asked was, “What time did you get home last night?”

Quaxo stared at him, “You were here when I got home.”

“Yes, I was,” and that was the end of that conversation. Corciopat shifted into talking about something mundane that Quaxo didn’t quite hear. Fridays were days without classes. He had been intending on rehearsing but no longer felt in the mood for it. Instead, he curled back onto his bed, half attempting to listen to what Corciopat was saying.

Quaxo sniffed his blankets. They smelled like the dorm room, of his soap and hair products. He needed to wash them but they smelled normal, nothing carrying the scent of the night before. 

A knock on the door and Pouncival was sticking his head into their room. 

“Do you two want to go and get breakfast?” He asked.

While he didn’t, the sudden hunger he felt at the mention of breakfast did. 

“Yeah,” Quaxo agreed, Coricopat just gave a nod of confirmation. Pouncival gave the two of them a thumbs up.

“Say... about ten minutes? George is still barely awake,” Pouncival rolled his eyes.

This time Quaxo gave the thumbs up. Coricopat didn’t look up from where he was furiously typing on his phone. 

It took a little bit longer than ten minutes until George was actually ready to go. They didn’t all go out for breakfast as an entire suite together often. Honestly, Quaxo barely spoke to George since their schedules were both erratic and there wasn’t much in common. But he allowed himself to slip into the normalcy of university life. They moved through the mess hall together, Quaxo only occasionally joining in on the conversation. He would catch himself zoning out and wasn’t the only one.

George elbowed him gently in the side.

“Not fully awake yet?” He jokingly asked. 

On cue, Quaxo yawned,  “Not yet.”

The sight and smell of all of the food presented to them only made him even more hungry. He even eyed the bacon, something he never touched in his life and didn’t plan on either. 

He didn’t stack his plate with a mountain of food even though he was tempted too. He still did grab more than he usually would have eaten. Quaco kept careful watch of his meals, proportioning them, and planning them so he always got what he needed. Dancing burned a lot of calories, Quaxo did what he could to avoid being hungry between his meals. 

Maybe he had forgotten his pre-bed snack. He knew people said not to eat past a certain time but he had to avoid waking up as hungry as he did now. He assured himself that that was what it was and he was just lucky to not wake up in the middle of the night. Not that it would have mattered since Quaxo felt exhausted either way.

He sunk into the booth behind him, glad that they managed to snag the last booth-table and that he had managed to sit on the booth side. 

Paying attention to his food was a lot easier than paying attention to the conversation. 

And Coricopat hadn’t stopped looking at him.

It wasn’t a glare. Quaxo was pretty sure he was just working himself up into paranoia after a bad dream. Coricopat was probably just staring because of Quaxo not talking. But he hadn’t said anything. He looked back over at him, raising his brows in a silent question. He wasn’t sure what he was asking but Coricopat shook his head and just returned to talking to Pouncival about the versatility of curry. 

While they chatted, Quaxo grabbed his phone. He chewed slowly on his food as he texted Victoria.

**[Quaxo]**

Can i come over today?

**[Victoria]**

aw do u miss me?

we can have a movie night if u want but electra is going to be recording all day

His mouth twisted into a frown. He could wait till the evening but it wasn’t preferable. Quaxo didn’t want to come off as clingy or needy. He supposed he could spend the day with Tugger but there was the same issue there. But Victoria was his sister and Quaxo wasn’t in any danger. He just didn’t like the way that Coricopat was looking at him. As if he knew more than what he was saying, that he wanted to ask Quaxo a question. 

This was all just paranoia. Quaxo was pretty sure that he was just being weird that morning. Coricopat was probably just keeping an eye on him. So far, he had been nothing but a stellar roommate and a good friend to have. 

He could wait until the evening. He needed to study. And the idea of seeing if Tugger was available was also tempting. Quaxo had seen him last night though and he wasn’t sure if Tugger was the type of person who needed space or not.

**[Quaxo]**

Okau

**[Victoria]**

lol okau

With that, he put his phone back into his pocket. Quaxo finished his breakfast. Knowing that he was going to see Victoria later helped him feel a little bit better. It felt like a long time until the evening was going to come but he was sure he could fill time until then.

It was easy for him to avoid talking to his dormmates for the rest of the day. Coricopat had left after breakfast anyway, which definitely relieved some pressure from Quaxo’s shoulders. He said something about meeting up with Tantomile. Some stupid part of his brain worried that they were meeting up to talk about him. Quaxo reminded himself that the world didn’t revolve around him and that the two of them met up all the time. They were twins, Quaxo understood the type of sibling bond that they had.

It wasn’t about him.

George and Pouncival left him alone because he stayed in his room. Neither of them was the type to seek him out without Coricopat being there. Mainly because Quaxo never did anything to incite an interaction on his own in the first place.

Shoving himself in the corner of his bed with his laptop was easy. He intended to do school work but it didn’t take him long to get distracted. 

Tugger had followed him on Instagram. That was something that should’ve been expected. They had been on at least one date (Quaxo didn’t know if he should count grilled cheese night or not, he felt like it was a bad first date) and they did text a lot. He found himself thinking too much about the slight crookedness to Tugger’s smile, the bounciness of his curls. 

Instagram was just a rabbit hole for him. He pressed his knees closer to his chest, laptop cast aside as he scrolled through. Quaxo liked the most recent photo but didn’t do anything more than that, not wanting to come off as a creep. 

He did creep though. He looked as far back as he could on Tugger’s profile, seeing the different hairstyles and the progression of the punk rocker look. 

Tugger’s Instagram led him to find the page for his band. There were fewer pictures on that one, most of which were Bombalurina taking selfies or poorly lit photos before they were to perform. Quaxo followed that one, too. He scrambled when he saw that there were videos, finding his headphones and hurriedly detangling them so he could plug them in and listen. He resumed his curled position in the corner before clicking play. 

Tugger’s voice wasn’t especially rough, it was a smooth tenor that even through Quaxo’s headphones had him blushing. He immediately felt embarrassed and swiped away from the video. He didn’t stop his deep dive even though his heart was going through palpitations. 

Quaxo had been invited to see Tugger play live. Of course, it was just to see Tugger’s band but Quaxo could only really think about the sight of him. He couldn’t even imagine what that would do to his brain. He hadn’t quite accepted the invitation. 

As he opened his messages to ask Tugger when exactly his next show was, Victoria texted him. He made sure to ask Tugger when and where exactly his show was before looking at what his sister had sent.

**[Victoria]**

electra is done! u can come over now :3

did u want to order food or smth

Looking at the time he realized he had just wasted the whole day staring at pictures of Tugger. It had begun to get dark.

**[Quaxo]**

I havent eaten since this morning so probably smart idea

Ill be over soon

He uncurled himself from the position, hissing at the pain in his legs. It was a burning pain, familiar from years of overworked muscles.

Quaxo ignored it, just pulling on a hoodie and finding a pair of boots to wear. When he left his room, he noted that Coricopat wasn’t back. Pouncival looked up at him from where he was lounging on the dorm room couch. He raised his hand at Quaxo.

“Goin’ out?”

“Dinner with Victoria,” he answered simply. Pouncival nodded at him and he left the room.

The hallway was quiet and dark towards the end, the fluorescent lighting not quite reaching it. He wished that he had brought his headphones with him but worried that he might not be able to hear anything behind or next to him as he walked. Quaxo pulled his hood up as he stepped outside. It was cold, his breath ghostly in front of him. 

Victoria lived in a different building than Quaxo. That normally was just seen as an annoyance. It was the middle of the day yet he didn’t feel comfortable walking on his own. He felt like it was dumb to have someone walk with him, especially since they were just going to have to turn back.

It felt as if there were eyes following him. Quaxo couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being stared at no matter where he went. He was hyper-aware of every bird song, every whisper of the wind in the trees. 

It was stupid, to be paranoid. Yet Quaxo could not shake the feeling of hands around his wrists. 

Even without weird  _ dreams _ Quaxo never felt comfortable walking alone at night. He sped up his pace. Quaxo didn’t want to give the wind a chance to begin singing. 

He rubbed his own wrists to warm the chill around them. Shivering his walk had become a light jog until he reached the dorm building. He opened the door by using the keycard that allowed access into most buildings, it just would only open his bedroom door. 

Inside the dorm building was warm. He rushed up as fast as he could to Victoria’s floor. It was illuminated, the light making him feel better as he walked down to Victoria’s dorm room. He gave the door to quick knocks, pulling his hoodie down as he waited. Quaxo glanced over his shoulders. Part of him was worried his knock had been too loud. He couldn’t help but keep watch still. 

Victoria answered the door, her face brightening with a smile when she saw him. She pulled him inside. Expectedly, he didn’t see a sign of Tantomile. The door to Electra and Ecterea’s room was open, he could see Ecterea half hanging off of her bed.

Victoria placed her hands on his cheeks, bringing some warmth back into them.

She removed them to sign.

“You haven’t eaten since this morning? Are you feeling okay? Usually, you eat as much as I do,” she peered at his face as if trying to detect any sort of illness.

“I’m fine,” he assured, “I just got absorbed in something.”

Victoria didn’t look quite convinced but decided to let it go. 

“Do you want to go to the dining hall or order something?” She offered.

The idea of going back outside made him shake his head. 

“I’m fine with ordering,” he signed to her, “Indian?”

“Curry!” She signed back with enthusiasm, “I’ll see if Ecterea and Electra want something. Do you want to set up a movie? I can probably convince Electra to order.”

Quaxo simply nodded his head, his hand curling into a fist and rolling forward. He was fine with ordering but if someone else could do it, he wouldn't complain. While Victoria convinced Electra to order the food for them. He looked away from her rapid hand movements before looking towards the small TV that was set up in the shared living space. Quaxo found a movie, one neither of them had to bother and pay attention to.

It was background noise for him and Victoria knew the subtitles well enough for it not to matter. 

She came out of the room, pleased with herself.

“She said she’ll call them right now,” she signed him. Victoria sat down next to him, shoving her feet underneath Quaxo’s ass. When she was settled and comfortable, she turned her attention to the movie. 

Neither of them signed to one another as the first few minutes of the movie played. The “silence” wasn’t incredibly comfortable. Out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t miss that Victoria was looking at him. It wasn’t the same way that Coricopat sid. That had been more troubled. Victoria just looked like she had questions that might be annoyed.

Standard sibling procedure. Quaxo reassured himself she was just going to ask about a dumb favor. 

It wasn’t until the food arrived that Victoria looked at him. The movie was still playing. Quaxo had settled on the floor to eat since he didn’t want to drop curry on the couch. Victoria nudged him with her foot so he was looking at her.

“You never told me how your date with Tugger went,” Victoria signed. 

“It went good,” he replied, honest, “I might go see one of his shows. He invited me.”

A slow smile spread on Victoria’s face. It held a certain amount of smugness to it, her eyebrows wiggling up and down. “A show, huh?” 

“Yes, a show,” Quaxo rolled his eyes as he signed. 

“And after the show?” Victoria asked with a flourish with her fingers, the smile on her face becoming more of a smirk.

Quaxo hadn’t even begun to think about after the show. The mere idea of what could happen made him flush just slightly. He tried to distract himself by shoving his face into his rice and curry. His eating slowed as his thoughts began to spiral about the sheer possibilities. Tugger hadn’t texted him back yet. That made him worry. What if Tugger had changed his mind? 

He didn’t pay any attention to the movie. His thoughts were focused on Tugger again. He could text him. Prod him for a response. But Quaxo feared that may be more annoying. He wasn't usually the type to think that way but this was Tugger. They both finished their dinners and for a while, just sat there. Even though there was a movie playing for background noise, Quaxo found himself humming as a partial distraction. He tapped on his knee, automatically swaying to the rhythm. It was a wash of sudden cold when he realized he was tapping out the song that he had danced to the night before. 

Victoria must’ve noticed the sudden pause because she poked him in the back of his head with her toes. He looked at her and tapped the couch next to her. The two of them managed to smoosh together, laying down the best that they could.

“Thinking about a dance?” She asked, her face full of curiosity to make the question clearer.

“I just have a song in my head,” he signed. He frowned, unable to hide his displeasure. Victoria’s brows furrowed a bit, the curiosity in her face becoming less exaggerated but still clear. 

“You seem really irritated over a song,” she signed back, sitting up just slightly to fully look at him. “If there’s something else you can tell me. Unless this song is super catchy. What’s it called? I can look up the lyrics.”

Quaxo didn’t want her to do that. He knew it would be useless since there weren’t any lyrics. He also knew Victoria liked to know as much about whatever songs caught his attention. She couldn’t hear them but she enjoyed music in her own way. 

He pressed his lips into a firm line, sitting up himself from where he had been laying next to her. Quaxo pointed at himself as his hand moved in an arch. 

“Come here,” he signed before opening his arms for a hug.

Victoria moved closer to him. His sister pressed her back against his chest as Quaxo held her. After a beat, he began to hum.

He didn’t sing the words as they didn’t come naturally to him. He hummed the lower harmony, resting his head on her shoulder so she could feel the vibrations from his chest and throat. When he was finished the two of them sat there like that. Humming the song didn’t leave the same exhausted feeling as the dance. It left a different taste on his tongue. Something easier to swallow now that Victoria knew it too. 

Slowly, Victoria turned so that she was facing him. Her expression was unreadable even to him. 

“Where did you hear that?” She asked, mouth shaping the words though no sound came out as she signed.

“At the house,” he answered. “And I keep hearing it too. It’s like the birds are singing it.”

“I knew you heard a song but Quaxo,” the fingerspelling of his name made a pit drop in his stomach, “Are you okay? If it’s still stuck in your head and you’re hearing it everywhere.”

“I think so,” he replied, shrugging. “Maybe I’m losing it.”

This time Victoria’s features pursed. Her light eyes that didn’t completely match with his own scanned his face. 

“That song felt…” her hands fell as she thought, “It felt familiar. Like it was pulling me. Did you really hear it at the house?”

“Yes,” he nodded with his head and hand. Victoria’s nose wrinkled slightly. 

“Well, we can go back? See if you hear it again and if you’re really losing it or not. I’m sure Rumpleteazer wouldn’t—“

“No,” he cut her off by grabbing her hands. He squeezed them once before letting go. “I don’t want to go back there again.”

“Are you sure?” She signed the worry was back on her face. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since we went. It creeped me out but it was intriguing.”

“I’m sure,” Quaxo told her. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been thinking about it?”

“Why haven’t you told me you heard the song more than once?” 

He supposed she had a point there. 

“Just promise me if you go, you don’t go alone. But I really don’t want to go back there,” he signed, not wanting to go back and forth.

Victoria stuck out her pinky and Quaxo looped it with his own. They shook their hands before letting go.

“I promise on Princess Diana’s grave.”

“Disrespectful.”

“The Royal Family killed her and you know it,” she pushed him gently once she finished signing. Victoria flopped back onto the bed. Quaxo joined her, the two of them lying side by side as comfortable as they could on the twin-sized bed. 

There was a lull between the two of them before Victoria’s hands were up again.

“When we first went to the hill, did it feel like you couldn’t breathe?”

He shifted, so she could easily see his signing. “Yeah.”

“Did you smell roses at all?”

That made him pause. He hadn’t, the first night they were there. Victoria wasn’t asking about when he had gone alone. The stench of roses had left his nose but the mere mention of them brought them back. She didn’t need to know about that. It wasn’t lying if she never knew anything in the first place. 

“No,” he answered, “Did you?”

“Only by the garden,” she explained, “It was faint but I thought it was weird. Roses are a summer flower, right?”

“Was it a strong smell?”

“Not really,” she replied, “I thought it was just Rumpleteazer’s perfume but she doesn’t wear any. Does Tugger?”

“He doesn’t. Not rose-scented, at least. Not that I’ve really smelled the perfumes he has,” Quaxo hadn’t gotten super close but he knew that Tugger smelled of something mintier. A scent he hadn’t gotten the full whiff of. Quaxo thought about it, about burying his head into Tugger’s neck and just smelling him. He found himself imagining how nice it would be to be surrounded by that smell. No rose had attached itself to Tugger as far as he knew. The thought of it excited him.

His sister being there kept him grounded on the current conversation. 

Victoria put her hands down again after that. He could feel anxiety beginning to gnaw at his stomach. He reached out, blindly searching for her hand. When they found each other, he squeezed it once. Victoria squeezed it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, i still hope everyone is staying safe  
> happy pride month especially to my trans siblings  
> abolish the police <3 blm and fight for indigenous sovereignty

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Cats fic and of course, I decide to do something spooky. Thank you to everyone in the Cats discord who reads this before I post it and let's my talk my ideas out. I would also like to note that I'm from the States so if I don't know how London works, I'm sorry. Just tell me and I'll fix it!
> 
> Feel free to comment or to reach out to me on social media below! I love hearing theories or just anything people have to say.
> 
> skeleton-narration.tumblr.com  
> prieto_art on instagram


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